


Boundaries

by gogglor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Consent, Friends to Lovers, Literally the opposite of touch-starved, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pining, Pining Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Sooooo much consent, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has A Heart, You're gonna be sick of all the consent by the end of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27107677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogglor/pseuds/gogglor
Summary: “I’ve got a weird body, Tony. Even before the serum I was always being poked and prodded by doctors checking up on me or bullies finding my weak spots. And now everybody and their grandma wants to squeeze Captain America’s magic test tube biceps. It’s just human curiosity.”Tony looked like someone was trying to teach him calculus. Incorrectly.***Or, Tony realizes Steve doesn't think he has a right to bodily autonomy, hits the roof, and sets about correcting the notion. Takes place after the battle for New York and before Winter soldier.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 182
Kudos: 652





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because I realized so many Stony fics write them both as touch-starved, and I wanted to see if I could make a story where the opposite was true. Many thousands of words later, here we are.

Steve was confused.

That in and of itself was not noteworthy. As a reanimated fossil from the early 20th century, Steve spent most of his time in the here and now very confused. The cause of it varied from day to day; yesterday it was planking. Today it was Tony leading him down the stairs to his Stark Tower lab for reasons he was keeping to himself.

Steve mentally retraced his steps for clues. They’d been in the kitchen at breakfast. Clint had been rearranging Steve’s cowlick, and Natasha had done that thing she does where she pokes him in the ribs to test his reflexes but plays it off so innocently he always ended up questioning whether she did it intentionally or if it even really happened. Tony had walked by and asked Steve to join him in the lab right away. When Steve had asked what this was about, Tony had waved him off and said he’d explain downstairs. Only now, they were at the door to Tony’s lab and Steve still had no idea what this was about.

Tony used the retinal scanner to unlock the door, rolled his neck, spotted Steve, and jumped.

“Oh, you’re still here,” he said quickly, “yeah, didn’t really need you. You can go.”

Steve was still processing what Tony said and almost missed catching the door before it closed in his face.

“You… don’t need me?” said Steve, as he followed Tony into the lab.

“Don’t sound so broke up about it, honey. It’s not you, it’s me,” quipped Tony, who had somehow managed to summon a hot soldering iron from thin air and was already focusing intently on a circuit board on his work table.

“Very funny,” said Steve, “why did you tell me to follow you to the lab?”

“Professional courtesy. You should be honored - that’s a rare commodity with me, according to Pepper. JARVIS, get me the schematics for the model 5 boot propulsion system.”

Steve stood there mutely for a moment, contemplating whether he was going to get any kind of productive result from this bizarre conversation. When he realized the answer was “probably not,” he spun on his heel to leave.

“You could just tell them, you know,” Steve heard over his shoulder.

“Tell them what?” said Steve, who had no idea who ‘them’ was and frankly didn’t care at this point.

“That you don’t like being touched.”

That got Steve’s attention. He turned back around and faced Tony. Well, faced Tony’s back - he hadn’t stopped soldering this whole time.

“Who told you I don’t like being touched?”

“Don’t you?” said Tony.

“I mean, it sort of comes with the territory,” said Steve for lack of anything better to say.

That got Tony’s attention. He put down the soldering iron, and spun around on his stool to face Steve.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“I’ve got a weird body, Tony. Even before the serum I was always being poked and prodded by doctors checking up on me or bullies finding my weak spots. And now everybody and their grandma wants to squeeze Captain America’s magic test tube biceps. It’s just human curiosity.”

Tony looked like someone was trying to teach him calculus. Incorrectly.

“I--’’

“No, stop talking,” Tony said and there was annoyance in his voice, “I want to make sure I’m understanding this. You’ve been putting up with Thor’s bone-crushing side-hugs and Nat’s pokes in the ribs not because you’re trying to meet them halfway to make friends, but because you think, what, that’s just how people are around you and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“More or less?” said Steve.

“Ok normally I’d blame the 40’s for this, but Fury literally made us watch that godawful sexual harassment video last week. Did you fall asleep? I’d understand if you fell asleep, it was a pretty crap video. Actually wait, no I wouldn’t, you never sleep, Rogers. You’re like a 6’5” Energizer bunny.”

“I wasn’t sleeping during the video,” said Steve, who had no idea what an Energizer bunny was or where this conversation was going.

“Great. So you remember the part where they said, ‘Don’t touch people who don’t want to be touched.’”

“They meant ‘don’t pinch a woman’s behind who’s just trying to do her job,’ Tony.”

“Consent isn’t just about sex, Rogers. Take it from a guy who’s had a lot of it. If somebody wants to _shake your hand_ and you’re not comfortable with it, you’re allowed to say ‘no.’”

“And start an international incident? ‘Captain America Won’t Shake the President’s Hand,’” said Steve, putting up his hands to frame his mock headline, “Look Tony, I get what you’re saying, but when I signed up for the serum, I signed up for a body that doesn’t 100% belong to me. And I’m ok with that, really.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, while you live under _my_ roof you will abide by _my_ rules. And in this house, everyone's body 100% belongs to them, end of conversation.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Tony,” said Steve as he turned to go.

“Jarvis, barricade the door,” said Tony.

Steve heard something heavy _shunk_ into place on the other side of the door, and he turned to look back at Tony in yet another round of confusion, this time tinged with irritation.

“You know I can rip through that like tin foil, right?” said Steve.

“I just needed to get your attention. I know when I’m being humored, Steve, and if it was something less important I’d let it go. But I need to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“‘My body belongs to me. Nobody touches or does anything else to it that I don’t want.’”

“Do I put my hand over my heart, or…”

“Why are you being so weird about this? Steve… were you ever forced--”

“ _No_ ,” said Steve, who was starting to get fed up with this conversation, “No, Tony, I just don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of a couple of friendly shoulder pats.”

“I dunno, why do you think the guy who was blown up, kidnapped, tortured, held without his consent in a cave, and surgically turned into a cyborg might have strong opinions on what’s ok to do to someone’s body?”

“Yeah but--”

“Steve, I know you and I aren’t exactly buddy-buddy, but I’m gonna need you to trust me on this one. You might not see this now, but I promise you it’s important that nobody does anything to your body that you don’t want. Ok?”

“Alright, Tony.”

“Say it.”

“Nobody touches or does anything to my body without my consent. Now can I go please?”

“Good. Now go tell Nat and Clint upstairs.”

“Why would I tell Nat and Clint to--”

“ _Steve_ ,” said Tony angrily, but then he took a breath. “You know what? That makes sense. You’ve spent your whole life never telling anybody not to touch you, I can’t expect you to start today.”

“Right--”

“Because you’ve never practiced,” finished Tony. Tony spun back around on his stool and resumed working on the circuit board.

“Jarvis, un-lock the door. Steve, meet me down here at 11:00 tomorrow.”

“For what?”

“Consent lessons.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's something that I hoped I made clear in this fic but in hindsight I want to spell it out. For Steve and Tony specifically, closing a door in Avengers Tower in front of them is the equivalent of dropping a bead curtain. In real life if someone loks a door in the direction you're going to keep them with you, that is NOT healthy or respectful of your boundaries and it absolutely counts as a red flag.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve hadn’t planned to come back the next day. Tony had blown off his commitments with Steve so many times, Steve figured it would make them at least a little closer to square in that department. But when he’d tried to leave the tower to go for a run, Jarvis had brought the elevator straight to the floor with Tony’s lab, and had locked the stair cases in either direction.

“Whose side are you on, Jarvis?” Steve asked the air angrily.

“Whoever has the higher access code level, sir,” said Jarvis, “and I’m afraid yours is just a few shades lower than Mr. Stark’s.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that after I’ve had a word with Fury about this,” said Steve.

“Of course, sir,” said Jarvis, “in the meantime, Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the laboratory.”

Steve doubted Tony Stark waited for  _ anything _ , and when he entered the lab he saw he was right. Tony was yet again hard at work hammering out a shoulder plate with a literal hammer and anvil, like some kind of modern Hephaestus. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, and the whole lab smelled like stale coffee, metal, and sweat.

“Did you ever go to sleep?” Steve asked.

Tony stopped hammering, only just noticing that Steve was there. “You came back?” he said.

“Jarvis didn’t exactly give me a choice,” said Steve.

“J, what did I tell you about overriding the choices of our guests?”

“Not to do it unless it saved someone’s life or was really funny, sir,” said Jarvis, “I thought this qualified for the latter. I shall modify my humor subroutines immediately.”

“Nah, it’s a little funny,” said Tony as he put down his hammer and took a swig from a mug of coffee so black it was literally black, “Steve, one thing I’m trying to show you is if you’re uncomfortable you’re always allowed to leave, so if you want to leave right now you can. Me and Jarvis won’t stop you. But for what it’s worth, I don’t think you should go.”

Steve pressed his lips together and sighed. “I’m here now,” he said, “might as well get this over with.”

“Cool!” said Tony, clapping his hands together, “So, I was gonna spend the night researching how to teach bodily autonomy but then I got an idea for something else and… yeah. Anyway, we’re just gonna wing it.”

Steve rolled his eyes in irritation. Of  _ course _ Tony didn’t have a plan. “How long is this gonna take?”

“As long as it takes, cupcake,” said Tony, “can’t make a baby without lots of bathwater first. Let’s start with a recitation of the pledge.”

Steve reflexively put his hand over his heart, but Tony shouted, “No, Steve. Dummy!”

Steve opened his mouth to protest but Tony’s robot Dummy wheeled across the lab with a small laminated business card in its pincers, and offered it to Steve.

Steve took the card and read aloud, “My body belongs to me. Nobody touches or does anything else to it without my...”

“Yes?” said Tony.

“I’m not going to say ‘enthusiastic, breathy, moaning consent,’” said Steve.

“Wow, you’re a natural at this already,” said Tony, as he snatched the card out of Steve’s hand and scribbled something on it with a magic marker. “Nobody can put words in your mouth you don’t want there, and the same is true for hands on your body. Is this better?”

Steve took the card and read, “‘My body belongs to me. Nobody touches or does anything else to it without my enthusiastic consent.’ Yeah, that’s better.”

“Hopefully by the time we’re done you’re gonna believe it too,” said Tony, “J! Fire up the BARF prototype.”

And before Steve could ask what that was the room went dark and there was suddenly a blonde teenage girl with giant dangling beaded earrings standing in between them.

“How--”

“Holograms, Cap. Welcome to the future. Don’t worry, she’s not real. She’s… gah, how do I explain this to you - you know what a mirage is? She’s like that. But with Jarvis operating her movements and her voice. J, make her wave.”

The girl raised her hand and waved it.

“This is incredible Tony,” said Steve, as he poked a finger at her leather fringe purse. His finger went straight through it.”

“Of course it is, I made it. Alright, straighten up. Let’s start with something easy. J, make her ask first.”

The teenage girl immediately came to life, saw Steve, and squealed.

“Oh my gaaaawwwwd, you’re Captain America!” she exclaimed, “I can’t believe this! Are those your real muscles? Can I touch your abs?”

“Ahhhh… suuuuure…” said Steve.

The hologram froze, and Steve immediately felt a few spritzes of cold water in his face coming from the ceiling above him.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Tony?” said Steve, incensed.

“Too much? Jarvis, let’s stick to positive reinforcement for now,” said Tony, “alright, no more punishments, but you still failed the test, Steven.”

“ _ Don’t _ call me Steven,” said Steve, wiping his face with his tee shirt tail, “and what did I do wrong?”

“You can yell at me for calling you ‘Steven’ but you can’t tell a teenager not to touch your abs?” said Tony.

“Well, yeah,” said Steve, “One’s just my abs, the other’s my name.”

“Mmhm. Your actual legal name is a strident no-no, but fondling your literal body is something just any teenager can do. Does that sound like healthy boundary setting to you?”

Steve was still irritated, but… well, when Tony phrased it like  _ that _ , it almost sounded bad.

“ _ Ok _ , ok. Just… let me try again.”

In a blink, the hologram was back in the same position she started in, looking at Steve the same way, and giving the same squeal.

“Oh my gaaaawwwwd, you’re Captain America! I can’t believe this! Are those your real muscles? Can I touch your abs?

“No?” said Steve carefully.

The hologram froze.

“Don’t treat your boundaries like they’re up for debate, Steve,” said Tony.

“What? But I said no!”

“You said it like it was a question. You need to end a discussion, not start one.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, sighed with angry frustration, and bit back a half dozen petty retorts.

“ _ Fine _ ,” said Steve, “let’s go again.”

The hologram started again, looked again, squealed again, asked to touch his abs again.

“No!” Steve shouted directly into her face.

The hologram’s eyes widened, then filled with tears.

“Oh sh-- I’m sorry. It’s ok, you can--”

The hologram froze.

“What part of ‘end the discussion, don’t start it’ did you miss?” said Tony.

“She was crying, Tony,” Steve said matter-of-factly.

“Well yeah, you screamed in her face, what did you expect to happen?” Tony replied even more matter-of-factly.

“Dammit Tony, I don’t know what you want from me!” Steve yelled.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Ok, one, you don’t have to say yes just because somebody’s crying, or pleading, screaming at you. ‘No’ is a complete sentence, and people who don’t treat it that way are assholes, and don’t you dare say ‘but that doesn’t apply to me,’ it does, shut up and read your card.”

Steve closed his mouth.

“Two, you don’t have to scream a ‘no’ for it to sink in most of the time. In fact, if we ever get past this extremely easy first test, we’re going to get into ways to say ‘no’ that won’t bruise even the most fragile egos. And three… maybe we’re going about this wrong. J, you remember what happened right after my talk at Columbia on Wednesday?”

“Of course, sir,” said Jarvis.

“Make a hologram of Dr. Brunt, and let’s replay it with me cast in the part of me.”

The teenage girl dissolved, and in her place was a middle-aged man in a sweater vest with a giant bald spot and an ink stain on his pocket.

“Aaaaand action,” said Tony.

The hologram walked directly up to Tony, getting way too much into Tony’s personal space. Tony gave it a look and a small wave, and it backed up a few inches.

“Thank you so much for stopping by my class, Dr. Stark--”

“Please, it’s just Tony,” said Tony, who immediately started checking emails on his phone.

“Your perspective on interdimensional--”

“J, speed over anything Steve wouldn’t understand.”

The hologram moved at super-speed and a high pitched chipmunk voice for a few moments.

“And the arc reactor! Is there really one embedded into your chest? Do you mind if I--” the hologram raised his hand until it was inches away from Tony’s chest, and he clearly was expecting Tony to assent as he gave no indication he was going to stop.

Tony put the palm of his hand between his chest and Dr. Brunt’s fingers.

“Gonna stop you right there, chief,” said Tony, as Dr. Brunt’s hand fell back to his side, “I’ve got a paper coming out next month about arc energy miniaturization, but how about I send you an advance copy and once you’ve read it you can shoot me an email with your thoughts.”

“Yes, yes of course,” said Dr. Brunt, as Tony walked away from him, “Hey, what’s your email--”

“You can end it there, Jarvis,” said Tony.

“You didn’t give him your email, did you,” said Steve.

“That’s your takeaway from this?” said Tony incredulously.

“Wh-- no,” started Steve.

“Good, because if that was your takeaway I was gonna have Jarvis take out the spray bottle again, and you’d deserve it. What did you actually learn?”

“That… I don’t know, that ‘no’ doesn’t have to be a big deal?”

“That’s better, but you’re still a few worms short of a can,” said Tony, “You’re right, ‘no’ doesn’t have to be a big production, but if you have to make it a whole damned musical number with a kickline to get the message across then so be it. What I wanted you to see is that if you treat your boundaries like they’re a fact of the universe just as immutable as gravity then, with the rare exception of some truly colossal assholes, other people are gonna treat’em that way too. Especially when it comes from white dudes like us.”

“That matters?” said Steve.

“It shouldn’t but it does,” said Tony, “that and casserole are some of the less fun relics from your time we haven’t quite shed yet. Which is why when not-white not-men folks lay down their own boundaries, it’s on us make sure everybody follows’em. You’re not the first person I’ve rescued from handsy coworkers.”

“But I wasn’t--”

“Laying down any boundaries? Sure you were - you were screaming them with your body language. But apparently that’s not loud enough for our teammates, which is a separate and more serious problem we’re going to get to later. For now, you’re learning how to take those body language boundaries and turn them into human language boundaries. Got it Cap?”

“Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Let’s give our fangirl one more go.”

The blonde teenager re-appeared, re-squealed, re-asked to touch Steve’s abs.

“Nah, but I’ll take a selfie if you want,” said Steve.

“Oh, ok!” said the hologram, who immediately turned around and took out her phone. She posed with Steve for the picture, thanked him, then hurried off. The room lighting returned to normal, and Steve looked over at Tony, who was making a face.

“You didn’t have to take a selfie with her,” said Tony.

“I know,” said Steve, “but that I don’t mind doing. Well, most of the time I don’t.”

Tony looked Steve in the eye, as if debating something internally, then gave a small shrug, and turned back toward his work table.

“Alright, that’s enough for today,” said Tony, “Same time tomorrow?”

“Depends,” said Steve, “are you going to eat, sleep, shower, and change between now and then?”

“What are you, Pepper?” said Tony, “Jarvis, this isn’t Pepper in a hunky disguise, is it?”

“Pepper would never wear acid wash jeans, sir,” said Jarvis.

“You’re right, she could never pull them off,” said Tony, “not sure you can either, Steve, unless somebody’s pulling them off for you.”

Steve felt a flush start as his neck, so he crossed his arms and said, “I mean it, Tony. You smell like a dog that lives under a car.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know more than one perfume manufacturer has begged me for the rights to  _ eau du chien sous une voiture _ ,” said Tony, and Steve supposed he shouldn’t be surprised a guy as smart as Tony spoke fluent French but he was. What did he even know about Tony?

“Tony--”

“ _ Fine _ , I’ll take a shower and eat a hot pocket.”

“And take a nap.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Rogers. Alright, I’ll also take a nap sometime between now and when we meet up tomorrow, happy?”

Steve nodded.

“Good. Now get the hell out of my lab.”

Steve walked out the door and as soon as he heard it shut behind him he said, “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“While Tony’s in the shower, send a robot to collect his clothes and replace them with clean ones.”

“Yes sir. Should I make that a default subroutine every time Mr. Stark bathes?”

“ _ Please _ ,” said Steve as he set off down the hallway, “Now let’s talk about slowly swapping out the hot pockets for stuff that’s just as convenient but made with actual food.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to add - just saying "no" should be fine, but if you're worried about looking rude, pay attention to what Steve and Tony did. "No" + move the ball into the other party's court on something else. "Don't touch the arc reactor" + "Can I send you a paper on arc tech?" and "Don't touch my abs" + "Do you want to take a selfie?" Other examples can be "I don't want to talk about my diet" + "Have you seen [movie]?" and "Don't touch my hair" + "Can I borrow your pen?"
> 
> It makes your boundary feel more like a fact of the universe and it helps the other party feel like they're saving face by giving them a direction for the conversation to go.
> 
> ***The more you know!***


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Brief mention of a past abusive relationship in this chapter.

Two days later, Steve felt like he was finally starting to get the hang of this boundaries thing. He’d managed to consistently tell the fangirl hologram she couldn’t touch his abs, she couldn’t squeeze his bicep, and she couldn’t tousle his hair. He needed work on holding firm when she looked hurt after a ‘no,’ but he knew he was making progress. Tony was right - this really was easier the more he practiced.

“Ok, new setting Cap. Park that juicy butt of yours up on the workbench,” said Tony.

Steve complied, and a moment later the table was transformed into an exam table at a doctor’s office. The hologram morphed into a 60-something year old woman in a white coat with horn-rimmed glasses, very pink lipstick, and dark brown skin. She was surrounded by a gaggle of five younger-looking doctors, who all had clipboards in front of them.

“Patient’s name is Steven Rogers, either 25 or 96 depending on your assessment of age, complaining of pain in his left shoulder after a fall from over 100 feet. You’ve all just read the chapter on known effects of the super soldier serum so I won’t repeat them. Hi, Steve, I’m Dr. Jackson, thank you for coming in today.”

“Uhh… hi,” said Steve.

“It’s my understanding your shoulder’s not quite what it used to be since you fell off that building last week, is that right?” she said.

“Y-yeah,” said Steve.

“What do we do first?” Dr. Jackson asked her students.

“X-ray?” said the short brunette.

“Just came in. No signs of a break.”

“Check for muscle trauma?” said the tall one on the left.

“Sounds good to me,” said Dr. Jackson.

There was a beat, and she said, “Well? Go on.”

The student walked over to Steve and immediately started massaging the muscles in his left shoulder. Or at least he would have, if he were a real person instead of a mirage. And even then almost as soon as he started, the scene froze.

“Alright, what went wrong?” said Tony.

“Nothing?” said Steve.

“Really, you’re totally at ease? That’s an ‘I’m comfortable’ death grip you’ve got on the table edge?”

Steve relaxed his grip on the table, and replied, “Nobody likes going to the doctor’s, Tony. I’m pretty sure they could spend the whole time feeding me bon bons from a silver platter and I’d still be kind of on edge.”

“Jeez, leave your sex fantasies at the door, Rogers,” said Tony, and Steve clenched his jaw as he felt a flush creep up his neck. “That’s a fair cop, but that doesn’t mean you can’t do anything to make it a little easier on yourself. Why didn’t you stop Dr. Tall-and-Gangly over here before he started kneading your shoulder?”

“He’s just doing his job, Tony,” said Steve.

“But he didn’t even talk to you or tell you what he was doing before he started touching you,” said Tony.

“Most doctors don’t,” said Steve.

Tony closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Steve, is this what you go through every time you get injured?”

“Not  _ every _ time,” said Steve, “Dr. Rosenberg is pretty good about talking to me about what she’s doing.”

“Why don’t you ask for her specifically?” said Tony.

“Because she’s got other things she needs to do, and the other doctors aren’t bad, they’re just doing their j--”

“Nope, stop,” said Tony holding out his hand, “Gimme your pledge card.”

After a beat where Steve established Tony was serious, Steve reached into his pocket and handed Tony his laminated pledge card. Tony took a magic marker Steve could’ve sworn wasn’t anywhere nearby a second ago and scribbled something on it, before handing it back.

“Read it,” said Tony.

“My body belongs to me. Nobody touches or does anything else to it without my enthusiastic consent,” said Steve.

“And?”

“And I will not make excuses for people who break these rules,” finished Steve.

“There we go. Also, Dr. Rosenberg is on Shield’s payroll, which means she’s on my payroll. Literally her only job is to take care of us. And as of right now, you’re her priority patient.”

“Tony--”

“Nope, Jarvis has already made the changes, isn’t that right J?”

“Yes, sir,” said Jarvis.

Steve pursed his lips disapprovingly.

“You’re allowed to pick doctors who make you feel comfortable and respected, Steve. Why would you think you’re not? Wait. Is this an army thing?”

“Kind of? Dr. Erskine was pretty respectful, but a lot of other ones weren’t, and we didn’t exactly get to pick them. I honestly didn’t think about it until it came up today. It’s not like they’re hurting me, so it’s really not--”

“Steven Grant Rogers I will tattoo that pledge onto your forehead while you sleep if I have to,” said Tony.

“Gonna draw a hard verbal boundary on my bodily autonomy and say don’t do that, please,” said Steve.

“See? You’re getting the hang of this. Now tell Dr. Handsy,” said Tony.

The hologram went back a few seconds.

“Well? Go on,” said Dr. Jackson.

The student walked over, and Steve pulled away visibly.

“What are you doing?” said Steve.

“Ch-checking your arm for contusions?” said the student.

“Ok. Just ask me first, please.”

Dr. Jackson pursed her lips.

“Thank you for saying something, Steve,” she said, before she turned to the rest of her students, “This one’s on me. Getting a patient’s buy-in before you do an exam or a test isn’t just part of the ethical practice of medicine, it’s crucial for establishing a good rapport. Patients who trust you are going to be more likely to tell you what’s really wrong, and follow through on your instructions. Makes for better healthcare outcomes all around. You want to try that again, Jason?”

“Uhhh… I’d like to gently press on some of the muscles in your shoulder to see where the tender spots are. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, that’s ok,” said Steve.

“Ok,” said the hologram, but before he could start the hologram faded as the lights in the room came up.

“You just made all those fictional students better doctors, Cap,” said Tony, “You might’ve saved the lives of some of their fictional patients.”

“You think so?” said Steve.

Tony shrugged. “If the doctor I had in my 20’s hadn’t made me feel comfortable enough to take off my shirt during my physical and seen my bruises, I would never have figured out that my boyfriend at the time was abusing me and I needed to get the fuck out before he killed me.”

Steve just sat there in shocked silence at this new, incredibly personal detail Tony felt comfortable sharing with him.

“Tony--”

“Nope, no pity parties in the lab,” said Tony, who had somehow summoned a blowtorch and a welder’s mask into his hands and was already making his way over to a different work bench, “I need to get back to work. See ya tomorrow, Cap.”

And without another word, the mask was over Tony’s face and he was welding what looked like a prototype for a new back plate for the Iron Man armor.

Steve debated saying something, but Tony was already in his zone. At best Steve could expect grunts or one-word replies until he was done with whatever he was working on. So Steve turned and left the lab. 

“Jarvis?”

“Yes sir?”

“How do I find out more about Tony?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are absolutely allowed to pick doctors/dentists/hair stylists/accountants/anyone you pay to take care of you that make you feel comfortable and respected.
> 
> Also, life hack: you can totally tell your dentist/doctor/whoever "I'm gonna need to take a few 30 second breaks" or "I'd like to play some meditation music during my exam" or "I'm going to be playing with this fidget spinner as you go." If they're any good at what they do, they *want* you to be comfortable. You're not imposing if you ask for a quick breather between cleaning your top and bottom teeth.


	4. Chapter 4

They didn’t have time for consent lessons for the next week. Some weird monster-robot-head-thing calling itself MODOK mind-controlled an army of citizens and held the UN building hostage with its mind laser beams ( _ When did this become my life? _ Steve thought more than once). Steve didn’t think there was much to talk about on the Avengers side of the operation, just a lot of recon, planning, then running around and punching stuff. But of course the gaggle of reporters that swamped Steve after the event needed to know exactly who ran where and punched what.

The Daily Bugle reporter was getting up in his face with his microphone and Steve was exhausted and sore and really feeling the crush of the bodies around him. Then he looked up and spotted Tony flying by in the background carrying some citizens off a roof top that had no way to get down.

“Um… excuse me? Could you stand back a little, please?” said Steve.

And to Steve’s surprise, he did.

“Actually, if all of you could just take 3 steps back, I promise I’ll answer your questions as best as I can for the next 5 minutes, but then I really need to get back to coordinating with the police and fire departments,” said Steve, deciding to push his luck.

They did. Steve could breathe. He’d really been able to do that this whole time?

“Thank you. Now, let’s start with Mr. Brock…”

Two days of briefing and one weird commendation from director Fury for “showing those reporters who’s boss” later, Steve was back in Tony’s lab, Thai food in hand.

“Thai food? Is it my birthday?” said Tony, who must’ve known from the  _ smell _ what Steve was holding because he never turned around or even stopped stripping wires in his suit’s battle-damaged gauntlet.

“Not for another month it’s not,” said Steve, “quit working and eat something with me, you’re gonna have to resize the suit if you don’t get something in your system that isn’t coffee.”

Tony put down the wire stripper, turned around and scowled. “How’d you know my birthday’s in a month?” he asked suspiciously.

“What, I can’t know my team member’s birthday?”

“When’s Clint’s birthday?” Tony asked.

Steve went silent.

“Nat’s? Thor’s? Bruce’s? Fury’s?

“Tony--”

“You’ve been reading up on me,” said Tony, as he snatched the bag of Thai food out of Steve’s outstretched hand. “Why?”

“Jeez, if I knew it’d make you this paranoid I wouldn’t have done it,” said Steve.

“Alright, what’s the damage?” said Tony.

“Uhh…”

“Which biographies did you read and which biopics did you watch?”

When Steve didn’t reply, Tony said, “J?”

“All of them, sir,” said Jarvis.

Tony looked taken aback. “Even the weirdly horny French one?”

“Yes, sir, even the weirdly horny French one.”

“Well that’s just excessive,” said Tony.

“Oh come on, Tony,” said Steve, “You’ve read most of the books written about me.”

“And a load of help that was. Guess how many mentioned you put 5 packets of sugar in your coffee, like a goddamn heathen. Go on, guess.”

“Hey, do you know how many calories it takes to maintain a super soldier body?” said Steve.

“Yes, actually, and don’t change the subject. Why are you reading up on me?”

“Why? I dunno, I guess I thought we’ve been spending a lot of time together and I still don’t know you that well. Because in spite of your reputation for a huge ego, you never actually talk about yourself.”

“Neither do you,” said Tony.

“You’re right,” said Steve, extending his hand, “so how about we do this properly? I’m Steve Rogers. And you are?”

Tony paused as he eyed Steve suspiciously. Then he finally reached out and shook Steve’s hand. Tony’s fingers were rough and still splotched with grease, and they were dwarfed by Steve’s comparatively giant hand. All Steve could think about was how much story there was to every part of Tony, from his brilliant mind to the arc reactor in his chest, to the scars and calluses on his hands. Steve had read every biography ever written on Tony and there was still so much to learn.

“Lord Englebert Loquacious III, pleased to make your acquaintance” said Tony.

Steve put on his best deadpan face. “Well, your lordship--”

“Please, ‘your lordship’ was my father. My friends call me ‘Bertie.’”

Steve was no longer able to suppress his smile, in part because this was the first time Tony had ever said aloud that he considered Steve a friend.

“Bertie, I’m sorry to tell you you’re not only trespassing in Avengers tower but also in Tony Stark’s lab. I’d clear out if I were you.”

“Psh, those guys are pushovers. That Captain America guy’s still wearing armor designed in the 40’s. I could take him out with a well-placed toothpick.”

“Sounds like he should ask his friend Tony to help out with some suit improvements.”

“Sounds like.”

Then Steve noticed that he’d been holding onto Tony’s hand all this time. Tony must’ve noticed it too, because he let go immediately.  _ Let’s not make this weird, Rogers _ , he thought to himself.

“Alright, you obsessive new Tony Stark fanboy,” said Tony, as he and Steve settled on opposite sides of a mostly clear workbench to eat their dinner, “what do you want to know?”

They ate, and talked, and laughed over the things their biographers had gotten wrong and appreciated their respective accomplishments. It turns out Tony really did beat a chess master when he was 8 but refused to take up the game because he found it “boring as dirt, except that’s an insult to all the cool stuff in dirt.” And Tony was devastated to hear that, contrary to the confident conclusion of one of Steve’s biographers, Steve did  _ not _ have regular orgies with the Howling Commandos (“We were a little busy, y’know, fighting a literal war. Plus only half those guys were gay.” “Top half or bottom half?”). In fact it was a full hour before either of them thought to check the time.

“Jesus, you come down here to learn how to stop being human Play-doh and here I am loading you up with anecdotes about the one time I met Katharine Hepburn.” said Tony.

“I don’t mind,” said Steve, who hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic for his body to instantly metabolize, but was still feeling really pleasantly warm and smiley from the food and the company.

“You’re not getting out of consent lessons that easy, Rogers,” said Tony, as he got up from the workbench, “But we’re getting to the beginning of the end anyway.”

“Really?” said Steve. Why was he disappointed?

“Well, the end of lab lessons. I know this is a chore for you, and I’m doing my best to get the point across quickly so you can go back to eating 5 dozen eggs and becoming roughly the size of a barge.”

Mentally Steve heard the familiar  _ whiff _ of a pop culture reference whizzing over his head, but he decided to ignore it.

“You don’t have to rush this, Tony,” said Steve, “You were right. This is important, and it’s helping me a lot.”

“Really? You scheduled your run to conflict with our first lesson and now you want extra credit?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m glad Jarvis stopped me.”

“Yeah about that… it’s possible that I… maybe… stopped you. Through Jarvis. To give you a chance to reconsider. But I would've let you leave if you'd said no.” Tony wasn't making eye contact.

“Oh,” said Steve, “Well, thank you then, for looking out for me.”

Tony gave Steve a curious expression before he shook his head and faced the area with the holographic setup. “Alright, cue the president, J.”

The lights dimmed, and the president of the United States appeared in the lab. Steve reflexively stood at attention and saluted.

“Mr. President,” said Steve.

“Oh please, no need for that,” said the president hologram, holding out his hand. Steve reached out to shake it, and the simulation froze.

“I thought you didn’t want to shake the president’s hand,” said Tony.

“This one’s fine. Not sure how I feel about the last one, though,” said Steve.

“Me neither. J?”

President hologram changed his appearance into the previous president. Steve saluted again.

“Aw shucks, a handshake’s just fine, Captain,” said the president holding out his hand.

Steve hesitated, then shook it. The simulation froze.

“Did you want to shake his hand, Steve?” said Tony.

“Not really, but if I didn’t it would be a headline.”

“You’re right. This is a trickier situation than anything we’ve run into before. Which is why I’d like to introduce you to a new tool in your bodily autonomy toolbox. Jarvis, run the simulation with me as the target.”

The hologram reset, this time facing Tony.

“Pleasure to have you back here Mr. Stark,” said the hologram, holding out his hand.

Tony sneezed into his hand, then used the back of his hand to wipe his nose.

“Hello Mr. President,” said Tony, “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t be shaking hands right now. Billions of dollars can’t stop a head cold, apparently.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll call Area 51 and see if they’re hiding a cure for it,” said the president.

The hologram froze.

“You want me to lie to the president of the United States?” said Steve.

“Whaaaat!? I would  _ never _ ,” said Tony sarcastically, “But in all seriousness, don’t lie if you can help it. If you have to meet the president a bunch of times it’s going to make things awkward, but if it’s a once per president sort of thing, bodily autonomy is one thing it’s ok to lie through your teeth to preserve, it’s that important.”

“I don’t know if I’m comfortable with that,” said Steve.

“Are you more comfortable shaking this guy’s hand?” asked Tony.

Steve thought about it, “I don’t know,” he replied.

“Like all things in life, it’s a value assessment,” said Tony, “sometimes all your choices are bad and you’ve got to make the best call you can with what’s available. But you’re allowed to weigh your bodily autonomy as heavily as any other consideration.”

“Even if it makes the papers?” said Steve.

“Some principles are worth making sacrifices for, Cap,” said Tony, “I can’t tell you which ones, but for whatever it’s worth you’re allowed to make your own comfort and boundaries one of those principles.”

Two weeks ago, Steve would’ve rolled his eyes at the suggestion he could ever prioritize his comfort with a handshake over accommodating the leader of the armed forces, but either Tony was wearing him down or Steve was starting to come around his point of view. Steve’s life may not be short, but he was pretty sure it was finite. Did he really want to spend all of it getting handled by people in ways he didn’t want?

“Play it again,” said Steve, as he moved back into a salute.

“Aw shucks, a handshake’s just fine, Captain,” said the president holding out his hand.

“Actually, sir,” said Steve, “I was sparring an hour ago and broke my hand. The serum’s taking care of it but…”

“Ouch! No need to explain, I understand,” said the president, “stay in the salute, it’ll still make for a good picture.

The hologram faded.

“Well done, Cap, you just lied to the president of the United States,” said Tony.

“Steve,” said Steve.

“What?”

“I’m not your commanding officer, you don’t have to call me ‘Cap.’ ‘Steve’ is fine.”

“Whatever you like, honeybear,” said Tony, and Steve found himself grinning like an idiot at the endearment.

“Alright, I’m gonna be late to sleep through a board meeting. Jarvis? Show Steve a couple of suit mock-ups he can choose from while I’m gone.”

“When the hell did you have time to mock up suits for me?” asked Steve incredulously.

“Just now? While you were interacting with President Hologram?”

“Bullshit, I was paying attention, and so were you.”

Tony threw up his hands and said, “Ok  _ fine _ , I’ve had these on the backburner for a while in case you ever asked. Happy?”

Steve quirked a grin. “That’s a really kind thing you did for me, Tony.”

“Oh I’ve got a file for everybody. If Clint ever realizes that society upgraded from bows and arrows to guns five centuries ago I’m not letting him leave the lab until he looks like a Rambo ripoff. Anyway, gotta run. Catch you on the flip side Ca-- Steve.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Tony was already out the door.

“If you’d kindly make your way to workstation 5, Dummy has laid out several material samples for your consideration, Captain Rogers.”

“Jarvis, has Tony ever let someone stay in his lab after he’d left it?”

“Once, sir.”

“Who was it?”

“Miss Potts.”

“Back when they were dating?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are Tony and I dating, J?”

“Does sharing Thai food over a workbench qualify as a date, Captain Rogers?”

Steve thought about it. “I don’t know, Jarvis,” he replied.

“Then I’m afraid I don’t either.”

“Does Tony ever talk to you about me?”

“I can’t disclose that, sir,”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Just… let me know, if there’s anything you  _ can _ tell me.”

“Of course, sir.”

When Steve eventually left the lab to take the elevator up to his floor, Natasha was there when the doors opened, playing a game on her phone. Steve didn’t think anything of it, until the doors closed and Nat immediately pressed the emergency stop button, then turned to face Steve.

“What’s going on between you and Tony?” asked Natasha, as she turned to face Steve.

Steve backed up. Natasha followed, keeping her confrontational stance a couple of inches from Steve’s face.

“Look, Nat, could you--”

“What are you doing in the lab, and don’t say ‘nothing’ or ‘gear upgrades,’ because I know for a fact that’s not true.”

“Well, you’re wrong on one count, because I was literally looking at material samples for a new suit 3 minutes ago.”

“But that’s not all, right?” Nat pressed.

Steve felt anxious and trapped and really just wanted to get the fuck out of the elevator.

“C’mon, Steve, aren’t we friends? You can tell me,” said Natasha.

“Wh-- yeah, we-- could you back up please?”

“Not till you tell me what’s going on.”

Two weeks ago, Steve would’ve caved. He would’ve told Natasha everything that was going on just to get her off his back and away from his face. But now, if Steve had ever been on the fence about whether what Tony was teaching him was important or worth it, he realized wasn’t anymore.

“No, Nat,” said Steve, who found himself straightening up and backing away from the elevator wall, “no, you don’t get to corner me in an elevator and get up in my space until I tell you whatever you want to know. You don’t get to ignore me when I ask you to back off. Because that’s a really shitty thing to do to someone you consider a friend. So back the hell up and maybe later, after you’ve apologized and I’m not angry about this anymore, we can have this conversation. But it’s sure as shit not happening here and now.”

Natasha looked confused. “Where the hell is this coming from?” she asked, as Steve released the emergency stop button and let the elevator continue.

“From me,” said Steve, as the doors opened and he stepped out, leaving Natasha behind, “Get used to it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of American history references, so for international readers and American readers who aren't as big a history nerd as I am, I've hyper-linked references to their respective Wikipedia pages. But the links aren't necessary to understand the chapter; you can skip them entirely and not miss anything happening in the story.
> 
> Also, CW for some of the shittier pieces of American history, including the eugenics movement, Jim Crow, and all-American nazis.

“Alright, for today’s lesson the less you know about what’s about to happen the better the message sinks in. But it’s a little intense, so we stop when you say so. Got it?”

Steve nodded, more curious than ever at what Tony had up his sleeve.

“I’ll tell you this much: pretend we’re in tuxes and it’s one of Fury’s godawful schmooze events.”

“They’re not _that_ awful,” said Steve.

“That’s because _you_ get to spend your time telling retired generals what [Eisenhower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwight_D._Eisenhower) was _really like_. I have to listen to every idiot with a business degree tell me how their dating app for hamsters is gonna change the world if only they could find an angel investor.”

Steve suppressed a laugh and said, “I mean, _somebody’s_ got to get the wheel rolling--”

“Oh _god_ he makes puns now. Jarvis, get the spray bottle, set it to ‘fire hose.’”

“And ruin my imaginary tuxedo?”

“You can send me the imaginary dry cleaning bill.”

 _When did it become so easy to talk to Tony?_ thought Steve, who was getting that warm feeling in his stomach again.

“Alright, let’s get the ball on the road,” said Tony.

The lights dimmed, and a stunningly beautiful woman with long wavy brown hair, bright red lipstick, and a slinky, floor length, green silk ball gown appeared next to Tony. You’d have to be dead not to stare.

“Steve, I’d like to introduce you to my date, Ms. Jade Islington. Jade runs an organization housing homeless vets.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” said Steve, as he held out his hand.

Jade shook it with both hands (or, the hologram made an approximation of shaking it), and said “Oh _believe_ me, Steve, the pleasure really is all mine.”

She gave Steve an earnest look.

“You know, before the night’s over, you and I really should talk about coordinating an event in New York City. Either a fundraiser for some of the bigwigs here, or maybe something for the guys in the shelter.”

“I’d love to,” said Steve.

“Oh look, your lapel’s crooked,” said Jade, and she moved her hand to Steve’s imaginary tux lapel.

“Th-thanks,” said Steve, who was starting to get nervous but couldn’t pinpoint why or how.

Jade’s hand on his lapel stayed put, and her other hand moved up to the side of Steve’s neck. Steve was pretty sure if he looked down, he’d see her her body was “pressing” against his. “And maybe when we’re finished talking about that event, we can talk about some… other things too.”

“Pause,” said Steve.

The hologram froze, and Steve backed up, and took a couple of breaths.

“That’s it, Steve, take a breather. This one’s rough, I know, I’m sorry” said Tony, “Mind if I pat you on the shoulder?”

“Sure,” said Steve, and the warm weight of Tony’s hand landed on Steve’s shoulder, grounding him.

“Alright, let’s start with what _you_ think just happened,” said Tony.

“Well, you brought a date, and she started flirting with me and pressing up against me. It was really uncomfortable.”

“That’s… not even close,” said Tony, “Steve, you just met an accomplished social engineer.”

“A what?” said Steve.

“J, could you replay what just happened with a Steve hologram mimicking what Steve just did?”

Instantly, a second Steve (this one in an actual tux) materialized in front of them, which was not helping at _all_ with Steve’s lingering sense of discomfort.

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” said holo-Steve, holding out his hand.

“Oh _believe_ me, Steve, the pleasure really is all mine,” said holo-Jade, taking his outstretched hand, then placed her other hand on the outside of Steve’s own.

“Pause it there, Jarvis. See what she just did, Steve?” said Tony.

“She… used two hands to shake mine. So?”

“She’s priming you. You gave her an opening for contact when you held out your hand. She took it, and she’s adding just a liiiiiittle bit more contact than you were offering. Not enough to break the social contract yet, but enough to set the precedent for her next advance. Speaking of which, keep playing, J.”

“You know, before the night’s over, you and I really should talk about coordinating an event in New York City. Either a fundraiser for some of the bigwigs here, or maybe something for the guys in the shelter,” said holo-Jade

“I’d love to,” said holo-Steve.

“Pause,” said Tony, “Look how she hasn’t let go of your hand yet. You might not even have noticed it, but she sure did. You accepted the second hand, and now you’re accepting the long contact. You’re gonna go along with whatever level of contact she wants, and she knows it.”

“But she wasn’t being rude,” said Steve

“Exactly. She’s playing on your sense of the accepted social conventions to get you to give her one more inch, then one more, then one more. Play it, Jarvis.”

“Oh look, your lapel’s crooked,” said holo-Jade, and she moved her hand onto holo-Steve’s now not imaginary lapel (which wasn’t actually crooked).

“Th-thanks,” said holo-Steve, who looked visibly uncomfortable.

“Pause. You’re uncomfortable now, but I’ll bet you’re feeling like you can’t say anything, right? That’s what the second hand and the long contact was for - setting her up to come in close while you feel like you can’t say ‘no’ now.”

“But she was your date,” said Steve.

“Now you’re catching on,” said Tony, “She’s using that too. I’ll bet you were thinking ‘She’s here with Tony, I can’t make a big deal out of this and imply his girl is hitting on me. And Tony wouldn’t bring a date who’s here to hurt me. And she runs such a huge charity, she can’t be a bad person. I must be overreacting.’ She knows what she’s doing, pal. Play to the end, J, and this time close your eyes, Steve.”

Steve did, and he could practically feel the hologram moving her hand to the side of his neck as he heard her say, “And maybe when we’re finished talking about that event, we can talk about some… other things too.”

“Now, without opening your eyes, tell me where her hands are,” said Tony.

“Her left hand is on the side of my neck, and her right hand is on my lapel,” said Steve.

“Open your eyes and look where her right hand really is.”

Steve did, and was shocked to see Jade’s right hand wasn’t on his lapel at all. It was just starting to graze the top of Steve’s left pocket.

“She’s a thief?” said Steve.

“Yep! Could be going for state secrets or just a grab at your junk - doesn’t matter. What matters is she played you. That’s called social engineering, also known as being a con artist, although when non-professionals use it it’s called ‘being a manipulative asshole.’ It’s the skill of hacking human behavior to get others to do what you want them to do.”

“Jeez, I feel like a rube, I was such an easy mark,” said Steve.

“You shouldn’t and you’re not. She was a pro. But this is what I was getting at when we started this and I said you needed to trust me that this was important. I can build the most un-hackable lock on earth to get into Avengers tower, but if you hold the door open for someone because they’re carrying a heavy box and you feel bad, it’s useless.”

“So, what, never open doors for anyone again?” said Steve.

“Open doors for anyone you like at the coffee shop, but don’t do it at the tower for people who can’t show you their badge,” said Tony, “and when someone at a party starts fixing your lapel, don’t forget it’s _never_ too late to say ‘no.’ The world won’t end if you make a scene. Trust the guy who’s made more than his share.”

Steve looked back over at his doppelganger, and how transparently uncomfortable he’d been.

“Wait a minute,” said Steve, “why didn’t _you_ say anything?”

“How do you mean?”

“Your date gets handsy with someone else and you don’t say a peep?”

“Ahhhh,” said Tony sagely over a mug of hot black coffee that had somehow magically appeared between his hands ( _How does he keep DOING that?_ Steve thought briefly). “Well, as badly as I’d like to say you’re right, that in real life I would’ve shouted ‘Get yer stinkin’ paws off my Captain!’ and tied her up rodeo style, I’m not sure I would have.”

“Why?”

“Because she was using another trick on both of us to get what she wanted,” said Tony, “strategically breaking social mores.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Would you ever get handsy with someone else if you were someone’s date to a party?”

“Of course not.”

“Neither would most people, especially not right in front of the person they’d come in with. That’s a huge social more she’s breaking. When things go way off script like that and we get no guidance from the people around us on how to react, most of us just sorta--”

“Do nothing,” finished Steve, “it’s called the bystander effect.”

Tony looked quizzically at Steve for a second, then said, “Somebody’s been reading.”

“Somebody wanted to know if they’d figured out in the 21st century how a country full of normal people let a guy like Adolph run the show and murder all their neighbors,” said Steve, “and if there was a way to make sure it never happens anywhere ever again.”

“You… don’t _blame_ yourself for the existence of nazis, do you Steve?”

Steve shrugged. “I remember my high school biology teacher inviting in a [eugenicist](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eugenics_in_the_United_States) to talk to us about heritability and how by 1980 we’d have no more disabled people. I didn’t say anything then, and neither did anyone else. Sometimes I wonder if the only reason it was Germany and not us was blind chance.”

“Jesus _fuck_ , Steve, does that A on your helmet stand for _anything_?”

“Oh what, you think we didn’t turn out like Germany because we’re America and we don’t do that bullshit? I remember the [nazi rally in Madison Square Garden](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1939_Nazi_rally_at_Madison_Square_Garden) in '39. [Jim Crow](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jim_Crow_laws)’s a distant memory to you, Tony, but I remember my Black neighbors never visiting their cousins in Virginia because of it.”

“Then why join the army? Why wear the A now?”

“I joined the army because at that time at least, we were fighting for something _right_. The world has no place for racist, genocidal despots with aspirations to world domination. And I wanted to join Bucky and everyone else fighting to stamp that shit out. As for why I wear it now? ...you’ll think it’s stupid.”

“Promise I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“May I never wire a circuit again.”

Steve sighed. “Jarvis, this workbench surface is a display screen, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Could you pull up some pictures of American activists?”

Steve and Tony turned around as the white backlit surface of the table transformed into a collage of photographs.

“This is why. [Bayard Rustin](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bayard_Rustin), [Susan B. Anthony](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Susan_B._Anthony), [Fannie Lou Hamer](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fannie_Lou_Hamer), [Judy Heumann](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judith_Heumann), [Frederick Douglass](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frederick_Douglass), [Sylvia Rivera](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylvia_Rivera)... all of them are just as much a part of America as those nazis in Madison Square Garden. And it’s the ordinary people too. Think of [the March on Washington](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/March_on_Washington_for_Jobs_and_Freedom), the [504 Sit-Ins](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/504_Sit-in) or the [Stonewall Riots](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stonewall_riots); most of those people weren't activists. They were regular Americans showing the best side of themselves when it mattered the most. Remember after the Chitauri attack on New York, how many people lined up for hours just to give blood? How many people _still_ make time to do that, even now? That’s the America I try to live up to when I put on the suit.”

Tony cleared his throat. “Wow. Can you, like, bottle that? Make it a sports drink? If we hurry we can sell out on Independence Day next year.”

“You promised you wouldn’t--”

“--think it was stupid, and I don’t. You’re a… what would Thor say? ‘An honorable warrior fighting for a worthy cause, Steven son of Sarah.’”

“Well thank you, Tony son of Howard. So are you.”

There was a beat, then Tony said, “Christ, how do we keep getting sidetracked like this?” as he moved away from the table and rolled his shoulders. “Ok, ordinarily I’d have you run the scenario again until you got the hang of saying ‘no,’ but the whole point of social engineering is that it preys on your inability to know what’s coming next. So I’ve got a couple more scenarios to throw at you, some with social engineers and some without, and I’m not going to tell you which is which, or which of the holograms in each scenario are the con artists. The goal is to get you to start listening to your gut about your bodily boundaries no matter what the situation is. Got it?”

“Got it,” said Steve.

Steve spent the next week slowly improving at telling both regular people with boundary issues and con artists alike to back off. It became a routine - Steve would show up in the lab and get Tony to eat some actual human food, he and Tony would shoot the shit over noodles or pierogies or whatever else Jarvis recommended ( _God bless this city and its fantastic food_ was a mantra of Steve’s both before and after the ice), and Steve fended off holograms while Tony either watched or worked in the background, both of them absolutely comfortable just being in the same space together.

And as Steve got better at listening to the part of him saying he wanted other people to respect his space, he got better at listening to other things he wanted too. Unfortunately that meant the part of him that had built up from a whisper to a shout saying _Dear God I want to kiss Tony Stark_ was getting harder and harder to ignore.

But Steve couldn’t deny the evidence in front of his eyes. Tony was giving 0 indication that he, in any way, felt the same way about Steve. And so Steve just kept coming back to the lab, and so what if it killed him a little every time he left? So what if he spotted a headline that Stark Enterprises was launching an initiative to encourage blood donation, with a picture of Tony himself donating, and Steve felt like he’d overflow with an L-word he wasn’t ready to think aloud to himself yet? Steve was responsible for his own feelings, and he’d figure this mess out somehow. Because the alternative - breaking off his friendship with Tony so he could move on - was too horrible to contemplate.

“Excuse me, Captain Rogers?” said Jarvis, “Ordinarily I’d wait until morning but you appear to be awake.”

Steve was indeed awake, and from the clock on the nightstand it was just after 3. Unrequited crushes had a way of keeping Steve up at night.

“What is it, Jarvis?” asked Steve.

“You asked me to inform you if there were any publicly available information concerning how Mr. Stark felt about you.”

“Yeah? You got something, J?” said Steve, who was now so awake he was sure he wouldn’t sleep for days.

“Mr. Stark has been liking or making comments on a large number of pictures on his social media profiles tonight. The commonality of all of them is that you’re in them, and I calculate the likelihood of that being chance to be less than two percent.”

“Ok. Um. I’m going to need you to tell me what that means, Jarvis.”

“It means he’s been looking at pictures of you. My understanding is that would typically mean he’s thinking of you, likely with fondness.”

“Fondness like a friend or a date?”

“I cannot say, sir.”

“Ok,” said Steve, who felt… like he still didn’t know what to do with that information.

“Shall I continue to alert you if there’s new public information concerning Mr. Stark’s feelings toward you?”

“Yeah, Jarvis,” said Steve, “I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

Steve laid back in bed, and found that somehow, it was easier to drift off when he knew that somewhere in Avengers tower, Tony Stark was thinking about him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget kids - it's NEVER too late to say "no." Even if you said yes before. Even if it makes a scene.
> 
> Both Steve and I had to physically restrain ourselves from continuing to rattle off names of badass Americans until we died. Names that I had to cut from the list for brevity include Frank Bowe, Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Dorothea Dix, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, the suffragettes who got arrested and force-fed through their hunger strikes, Stokely Carmicheal, Lucretia Mott, Medgar Evers, Alice Wong, Marsha P. Johnson, the participants in the Capitol Crawl, Sojourner Truth, Jacob Riis, Ed Roberts and the Rolling Quads, Miss Major, Harriet Tubman, and you know what I could keep going but if any of those names are unfamiliar to you, you should look them up.
> 
> The alien attack on New York that Steve is referencing may be fictional, but after 9/11 New Yorkers really did line up for hours to give blood. It was actually the only time the NY blood bank has ever had all the blood it needed to fully stock all NYC hospitals. They've been running a shortage ever since.
> 
> If you can give blood you should (regularly if you can swing it). You'd be part of the "A" Steve tries to stand for, and Tony would give you a fist bump then crack a joke about the free juice box.


	6. Chapter 6

“You know,” Steve said after he successfully stopped a holographic con artist from stealing his wallet for the third time in a row, “this seems like something the whole team should train for. It’s potentially a serious liability in our security.”

Tony chuckled, and took a sip from a mug of coffee that was suddenly in his hands ( _ Seriously, he didn’t even go to the coffee maker, where did it COME from? _ thought Steve briefly).

“Let’s see. Pretty sure no amount of training could stop Thor from making friends with everyone he meets, so in my professional opinion our best bet is to just build security around him. Bruce knows about as much as I do about social engineering, which is to say enough. And Nat and Clint… well, they’re self-explanatory.”

“How?” said Steve.

Tony pulled a face like he was trying to figure out if someone was being deliberately stupid or just normal stupid.

“Steve, this is literally what Nat and Clint do for a living. Honestly their combat skills are just nice-to-have bonuses, their real skill set is being absolutely top notch social engineers. Forget what the movies tell you spies do, Clint and Nat don't parachute onto bad guy private islands. They can just pretend they’re stupid tourists who got lost boating in the Caribbean and by the time the guard realizes his mistake in letting them use the phone, he’s out cold.”

“Really?” said Steve.

“Sorry if this shatters any illusions you might have about them, but Nat and Clint are just con artists working with the good guys. Well… Clint’s con- _ competent _ , Nat’s the real artist. I think she does it unconsciously now. But how did you think she keeps poking you in the side in such a way that you never feel like you can say anything about it?”

Suddenly Steve remembered the confrontation in the elevator. He thought about how his brain had been screaming at him to just tell Nat what she wanted to know so she’d back off, and he realized now that if Nat was a con artist, she’d been counting on that. And then Steve was pissed off all over again.

“Hey, wait, don’t be mad at Nat,” said Tony, putting down his mug, “She’s not playing you.”

“Do you think maybe she’s conning us? Just relying on us to trust her until--”

“Whoah, back up there Captain Paranoia,” said Tony.

“But that’s just it - how do you tell the difference between someone, I don’t know, patting you on the shoulder to comfort you after a rough day, and someone doing it so you don’t notice their other hand going for your wallet? You can’t just live your life assuming everybody’s a social engineer, but if you don’t you’re setting yourself up to get played.”

“Ok, first, you’re right - if you spend your life trying to avoid cons, you’re gonna live a paranoid life. I’m not trying to teach you never to trust anyone ever again. The goal here isn’t to let that part of you that doesn’t want to be conned or touched take over your life, just to weave it into the background of your thought processes and learn how to feel ok with telling people to back off.”

“Now, as for Nat,” continued Tony, “funny thing about cons. If you run them long enough they either get too hard to keep up, or they become real. Nat may be a world-class social engineer, but she’s been hanging out with us and fighting alongside us for a while now, and alongside Clint and Fury for  _ years _ . It’s not impossible she’s conning us all, but I think it’s unlikely. Especially with Fury’s top of the line bullshit-detector 2 inches from her face at all times. Because even if she started off faking friendship with us, and especially with Clint, I don’t think she’s faking now.”

“Is that what you mean by ‘become real’?” asked Steve.

“Let me give you another example,” said Tony, as he leaned against the work table and looked at the ground. “Say, hypothetically, you start out a con of your own. You’re going to  _ pretend _ that the only thing you care about in life is having sex and throwing parties, so you can stop people from asking why you’ve never taken a hard look at what your company actually sells. Can’t expect a  _ playboy _ to give you a serious answer on whether it’s ok to make stuff that blows people up, right? Anyway, maybe you  _ start  _ there, conning everyone into getting off your back just while you figure things out for yourself. But the next thing you know it’s a couple decades later, you’re locked in some godforsaken cave, and you can’t remember when you stopped  _ pretending _ not to care and started  _ actually _ not caring.”

Steve walked over and joined Tony in leaning against the workbench. Tony never stopped staring at the ground.

“I think I get it,” said Steve, “It sounds a bit like pretending you don’t like a playboy billionaire philanthropist, just to get him to shut up and start acting like a team player, then sort of falling into a pattern where the two of you  _ actually _ don’t like each other. And then, after you spend some time with him, you realize you always liked him, even from the beginning. And you were just being an asshole for no reason.”

“My hypothetical’s more poignant than yours,” said Tony.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” said Steve, “Oscar called, your Academy Award is in the mail.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Ok one, the Oscars were around in the 40’s, and two--”

“What I’m trying to say, Tony,” said Steve, “is that you’ve got nothing to apologize to me for. Whoever you were, it’s got nothing on the man you’ve become. And you’re not the only one who’s made mistakes, so I want to apologize for the one I made about you.”

“Not so sure you did make one, Steve,” said Tony, who went back to staring at the ground.

“I am. The suit’s just one extraordinary piece of you. And the work you do, the inventions you create? That’s just another. But Tony,” Steve turned his body, faced Tony, and said, “you’re extraordinary all the way down.”

Tony finally turned to look at Steve, his expression looking… hopeful? Steve felt the side of his own hand brush against the side of Tony’s, then--

“Mr. Stark, Captain Rogers, director Fury would like all parties in their super suits and on the helipad in five minutes.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

The mission turned out to be a bit of a milk run. Some of Hydra’s dumber agents were trying to take over New York City by… actually, Steve wasn’t really sure what their plan was, but it involved a lot of robots. Tony and Thor made pretty quick work of the flying ones and Steve joined Nat, Clint, and Bruce on the ground taking down the walking and rolling ones. When the team realized Hydra had forgotten to install circuit breakers and they had a god of lightning on their side, it was all over in less than an hour.

Steve was completing a final double tap sweep just to make sure none of the downed robots could revive when he felt a familiar poke in his ribs. Steve turned, and sure enough there was Natasha.

“Hey Steve,” said Natasha.

“Hey Nat,” said Steve, who knew he should probably tell Nat not to poke him like that but didn’t have it in him to do it right now.

“Look,” said Nat, “I want to--”

“Captain Rogers!” shouted a reporter climbing over some rubble, “Should New Yorkers be on the lookout for more robot attacks?”

Natasha sucked her teeth. Steve knew there was very little she hated more than pushy reporters, and she was already planning her exit route.

“Pick this up back at the tower?” said Steve.

“See you there,” said Natasha, who promptly parkoured over a busted car to leave Steve to the reporter.

Several hours and one debrief later, Steve had showered and was settling down in the common room in his civvies with a cooler full of bags of frozen peas to put over his sore spots. Dr. Rosenberg had confirmed there was nothing wrong with him the serum wouldn’t take care of in a day or two, but the serum did nothing to dull the pain he’d be feeling in the meantime. He knew he’d probably feel better in an ice bath on the recovery floor, but voluntarily covering himself in ice triggered Steve’s anxiety for obvious reasons.  _ I need to go to therapy about that _ , thought Steve for the hundredth time as he arranged a bag over a nasty cut on his sternum, knowing full well he’d forget about it again by the time he’d healed up.

A little bit later, Natasha hobbled into the common room (she’d twisted her ankle during the fight), helped herself to the contents of Steve’s cooler, and collapsed on the couch next to him.

“Go take an ice bath, Nat,” said Steve, “we don’t have to have this conversation now.”

“Nah, we do,” said Natasha, wincing as she raised her ankle onto an ottoman, “I’ve put this off too long already. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve fought the urge to say she had nothing to apologize for. “Thanks for saying so,” he said instead.

“Look, it’s not an excuse,” said Natasha, “but the way I was raised, the way I was trained, other people who had something you wanted were called ‘targets.’ I didn’t even learn the word for ‘friend’ until I was 10 years old, and the context was that a friend was something you could pretend to be to get in someone’s head. I’m still unlearning that. And I hope--”

“We’re still friends, Nat,” said Steve, “you don’t have to worry about that.”

The corner of Natasha’s lip turned up slightly. “Good. I’m going to try hard not to do something like that ever again. And I’m glad you’re standing up for yourself now.”

“You can thank Tony for that,” said Steve.

“Yeah, you’ve changed a lot since you started hanging out with Tony. And most of it’s great.”

“Most of it?” said Steve, as he started to feel anger bubbling up from his gut.

“Until today I would’ve said all of it,” said Nat, “But Steve, if we’re being honest, you weren’t at 100% out there today. We got lucky it was just some robots because if it had been something more complicated, somebody could’ve gotten hurt.”

Steve sighed, the anger now turned at himself because he knew she was right. “I’m sorry. Something happened… something  _ didn’t _ happen, literally right before we suited up, and it was on my mind. It won’t be a problem going forward.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” said Natasha.

Steve hesitated. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Natasha. Tony was right, at this point it made more sense to assume she was here with good intentions than bad ones. But talking about it would mean… talking about it. Out loud. And if there was anything Steve had learned over the past couple of weeks it’s that the things you think in your head become more concrete when you say them out loud. But he’d also learned it was ok to listen to his gut about what he wanted, not just about what was right and wrong. And Steve realized right now his gut was telling him he did want to talk about it. So he did.

Say what you will about Nat, she knew how to listen. She didn’t say anything at all as Steve brought her up to speed on everything, including the parts about how he felt about Tony. When he was finished, Natasha leaned back into the couch.

“Do you want my take, my advice, or my company right now?” asked Natasha.

“How about all three?” said Steve.

“Alright so, in order,” said Natasha, “I’m really glad Tony’s doing this with you. He’s right - your body is yours. And I’m so, so sorry the rest of us ever treated it otherwise. As soon as we’re done here I’m going to have a word with the guys about this.”

“Actually, please don’t,” said Steve, “I think that’s something I need to do myself, when I’m ready.”

“Fair enough,” said Natasha, “But I’ve got your back. I also think it’s adorable that Tony thinks he’s a qualified teacher of social engineering. If you’re actually interested in learning how to avoid getting conned, come find me after my ankle’s healed up.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” said Steve.

“Now for my advice,” said Natasha, sitting up slightly on the couch and turning to face Steve more directly. “Steve, you need to tell Tony how you feel. With words, out loud.”

“What good would that do? He doesn’t feel the same way, Nat,” said Steve.

“He told you that?”

“He said we were friends.”

“Did he say you were friends, or ‘just friends’?”

“What is this, middle school?”

“Which of the two of us is an expert in human behavior and psychology?”

Steve exhaled and said, “He said… not to call him ‘your lordship,’ because his friends called him ‘Bertie.’ And I’m sorry, that makes 0 sense out of context, but it was really funny at the time.”

Nat chuckled a bit and said, “It tells me more than you think it does.”

“Oh?”

“Tony’s jokes go to weird places like that when he’s trying to avoid thinking about how he’s feeling, because if he’s doing improv he can’t sit with his emotions. Was anything else going on while he said it?”

“Ummm… we were shaking hands.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” said Nat, “Steve, in my professional opinion, Tony’s got it for you as bad as you’ve got it for him.”

“You can tell that from a handshake and a joke?”

“Impressed? Here’s another - you ask unnecessary clarifying questions like that when you’re trying to delay getting to the end of a conversation that you know will conclude with something unpleasant. Like, say, admitting I’m right and that you need to tell Tony how you feel.”

“Do I really--  _ damn _ .”

“Yep.”

“Is this what goes through your head all day?”

“You’re still doing it, Steve.”

Steve had to literally bite his tongue to stop himself from asking another question he knew the answer to.

“I know this isn’t easy to accept,” said Nat, “so how about I give you some time to sit with what I said, and for now we can get to enjoying each other’s company in the best way I know how: beating your butt at Mario Kart so badly you can’t look at a banana peel for a week.”

“Somebody say ‘Mario Kart’?” said Clint, who’d just walked into the room.

“No!” said Steve and Natasha simultaneously.

“Jarvis?” said Clint.

“They did, sir."

“I may be deaf as a post but Jarvis sure isn’t,” said Clint, who reached up on the shelf to get his special just-for-Mario-Kart controller, “get ready for a blue shell beat down, bitches.”

“J, I am going to find the cathode ray tubes where you live and fill them all with bees,” said Steve.

Clint snorted and settled down on the couch, “One, Steve, you are adorably technologically illiterate, don’t ever change. And two, since when does anyone but Tony call Jarvis ‘J’?”

“Yeah, since when?” said Natasha slyly.

Steve felt a familiar flush start up his neck, but fortunately that’s when the game screen turned on, and both Nat and Clint spent the next several hours absolutely pummeling Steve’s little electric go-kart off of every driveable surface (even though he was bad at them, video games were one of Steve’s favorite post-ice discoveries, but only sufficiently non-violent ones). It wasn’t until Steve went to bed many hours later, thumbs even sorer than his battle injuries, that he realized he hadn’t seen Tony since the briefing.


	8. Chapter 8

Steve was still sore the morning after the robot attack and the weather was definitely taking a turn for the freezing but he made himself run a few laps around Central Park anyway to clear his head. Nat’s advice was still ringing in his ears, but so was her assessment of Tony. Could she really know from  _ one _ second-hand account of  _ one _ thing they’d said to each other that Tony had feelings for him?

Steve thought about it as he ran, and ultimately decided it was immaterial. Maybe Tony liked him and maybe he didn’t but either way things couldn’t continue the way they were. He was losing sleep, and something as tiny as a graze from Tony’s hand was enough of a distraction to impact his work. He either needed to tell Tony and let the chips fall where they may or take a hiatus from the Avengers. Option two had a 100% guaranteed outcome of Steve being miserable. Option one, from a pure statistical standpoint, was a coin flip. And as Steve completed his last circuit around Central Park, he knew which odds he liked better.

Before he headed back to the tower, Steve stopped by Columbus Circle to pick up some bagels from his favorite cart vendor.  _ If we’re going to have this conversation we might as well have it full of bagels _ , thought Steve dully as he paid the man behind the counter and got ready to jog back to the tower.

“Excuse me? Are you Captain America?”

Steve looked down. An eight year old boy in threadbare sneakers and a too-large tee shirt with Steve’s shield on it was looking up at him. A moment later a woman he could only assume was his mother ran over from where she had been standing waiting to cross the street.

“Tommy!” she chastised, “Don’t just wander off like that.”

“But it’s Captain America!” he said, pointing at Steve.

She looked up, and practically jumped out of her skin in surprise that it actually was him.

“Um, hi,” said Steve briefly to the mother, before getting down on one knee to talk to the kid, “Are you Tommy?”

“Yes!” said Tommy, “Mommy he knows my name!”

“Yes, sweetie,” said his mother, “Hello Captain Rogers. This is my son. He’s been going through a Captain America phase over the past year or so, and--”

“Wow, really?” said Steve, “I see you’re already suited up. I’ll bet the bad guys don’t stand a chance against you, bud.”

Tommy beamed, then looked up at his mother.

“Can I show him my shield mommy?” he pleaded.

“Oh, I don’t think Captain Rogers has time to--”

“Pleeeeeeeeease???” he whined.

The woman sighed, then reached into a kid-sized backpack hanging over her elbow and pulled out a miniature hand-painted Captain America shield.

“Oh wow, you’ve even got the gear!” said Steve, as Tommy handed Steve the shield. It was surprisingly heavy for its size - it must’ve been scrap metal someone had painted.

“Do you… mind if I take a picture?” said Tommy’s mother.

“Of course, go ahead,” said Steve.

He posed for a picture with Tommy with both of them behind the shield, then got up to go.

“Wait!” said Tommy, who reached out and grabbed Steve’s hand, “Take a picture of just you like you’re going to throw it!”

Steve considered it, but a memory flashed to the forefront of his mind of him doing the exact same pose in a USO photo shoot for some posters, and it was enough to leave a sour taste in his mouth. He was also feeling much colder now that he was losing the flush of exercise on his skin, and the bagels were undoubtedly getting cold too. The last thought was the one that put Steve over - Tony liked his food hot, and might perform the sacrilege of putting his bagel in the microwave if Steve didn’t hurry back.

“Sorry, kiddo, I’ve got to get back to the tower for some important Avengers business,” said Steve.

Tommy’s eyes started to water.

“I’m sorry,” said Tommy’s mother, “he’s got an action figure of you at home posed like a discus thrower, do you think you could--”

“I... really need to go,” said Steve.

Tommy burst into tears and started hugging Steve’s side.

The greater part of Steve’s mind was saying,  _ Way to go, Rogers, you made the kid cry _ , but some small, now familiar parts of Steve’s mind started speaking too. And out of newly-formed habit, Steve listened.

_ This is unusual. _

_ This is uncomfortable. _

_ I want this to stop. _

“Hey, back up there, kiddo,” said Steve, as he pried Tommy off his leg, “No need to be upset. I’ll be sure to tell the Avengers we’ve got a new man in the field when I get back to the tower. Take care of your mother, ok?”

Steve had started jogging off, when something heavy hit him in the back. Steve turned back around, and saw the home-made shield had bounced off his back and made a thud (not a clang?) on the ground. Tommy and his mother were running in the opposite direction as fast as they could.

Steve put two and two together. He picked up the “shield” and hurled it into the air as far away from civilians and the surrounding buildings as he could. The explosion was still enough to make Steve’s ears ring, and to rattle the pillar supporting the statue of Columbus at the center of the circle. Steve watched as the pillar wobbled, then began to fall.

“Look out!” shouted Steve, as he vaulted over a bench, positioned himself underneath the pillar and tried to hold it up. But the stone broke just over where he’d braced his hands and the top section hit him on the head as it went down behind him. Steve was unconscious before either he or it hit the ground.


	9. Chapter 9

The next couple of hours were a bit of a blur. Steve came to pretty quickly, but one of the pedestrians was a doctor and told him not to move due to the possibility of neck trauma. There was a neck brace, an ambulance ride back to the tower, an X-ray, and a debrief with Shield.

After a good hour of grilling from the Shield agents, Dr. Rosenberg apparently got fed up at being told to wait at the door and pushed her way into Steve’s room.

“You two. Out. Now.” she said with every inch of authority her 4’10” frame could muster.

“Doctor--” started one agent.

“You are harassing my patient, who needs to consult with his doctor and then rest so he can heal. If you are not out of this room in 3 seconds, so help me, I will find Steve’s real shield and beat you over the head with it myself.”

The agents had a silent conversation with their eyes, then left the room. As soon as they left, Steve howled with laughter.

“Remind me never to tick you off, doc,” said Steve.

“Oh please, I’m 100 pounds sopping wet. You could throw me farther than your shield.” Dr. Rosenberg tucked a lock of salt and pepper hair behind her ear, lowered her animal print reading glasses, and perused Steve’s chart. “Speaking of throwing shields, as your physician I’m going to request you stick to throwing your usual one. The last one turned out to be a bit hazardous to your health.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Steve.

Dr. Rosenberg talked to Steve about his x-rays (nothing worrying she could see), took the brace off Steve’s neck and (with Steve’s permission), did a quick examination of his head and neck to confirm everything was alright.

“We’re going to keep you overnight as standard procedure after a concussion, but I’ve got a hunch the serum’ll take care of it. Any questions, sweetheart?”

“…No,” said Steve.

Dr. Rosenberg squinted. “That was a very pregnant pause, Captain Rogers.”

Steve squirmed and took breath.  _ Tony was right, having the right doctor really makes a difference _ , he thought. And when Steve managed to get out that sex ed in the 30’s wasn’t all that comprehensive and he needed some things to read in the event that he hypothetically wanted to date a man, she didn’t miss a beat.

“I can absolutely do that for you, honey,” she said, “But if you like, I can also come back here later this evening and chat for a bit. And then you can ask a professional literally every question you have ever had about sex or sexual orientation. Would you like to do that as well, sweetheart?”

“I don’t… I know you’re busy here.”

“What? Steve, taking care of my patients is literally what I get paid for. I would  _ much _ rather spend an ounce of prevention today than have you come back here in a month with an STD I don’t have a pound of cure for.”   
  
“STD?”

“Sexually transmitted disease. And if you ever find a time machine in your adventures, please hook me up so I can kick your sex ed teacher’s ass for not teaching you that.”

Steve briefly imagined his high school health class getting interrupted by a tiny pissed off Jewish grandmother punching the teacher in the gut and he chuckled. “We called them ‘social diseases,’” he said.

“I’ll be sure to put a terminology update on the syllabus. See you this evening, Steve?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later, doc.”

“Alright honey,” said Dr. Rosenberg with a warm smile, “For now I think you should see your friend. He’s been waiting down the hall very patiently for a while now.”

Steve perked up. “Yeah. Yeah, could you send for him?”

Moments later, Bruce walked through the door and Steve did his best not to look disappointed.

“What did I tell you about getting bagels from Columbus Circle, you tourist?” said Bruce.

“Good to see you too, Bruce,” said Steve.

Bruce sat down in the chair beside the bed.

“How’s your head feelin’?” said Bruce.

“Like it’s being split open,” said Steve.

“Painkillers?”

“Can’t. Serum.”

“Right.”

“What’s the news saying?”

“Oh, y’know,” said Bruce leaning back in the chair, “The channels that like you are saying you survived an assassination attempt and saved a bunch of lives. The channels that don’t are saying you destroyed a statue of Christopher Columbus.”

Steve laughed, “I didn’t even think of that. What a bonus.”

“Right?”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“What, you can’t spend time with your weird uncle Bruce?”

“You’re a kooky cousin, not a weird uncle.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” said Bruce with mock sincerity, “And everybody wanted to be here, but your admirers split up and booked it after they gave you your present. Thor and Clint are going after the woman, and Nat and Tony are tracking down the kid.”

“About… about the kid...”

“Relax, Steve, the goal is to capture and get him help, not punish. There’s a reason Nat’s on that detail.”

_ Because she knows what he’s going through _ , floated unspoken between them, and Steve felt both relieved and heartbroken at the same time.

“Anyway, turns out you don’t really need a Hulk to sniff out assassins, so you’re stuck with me as your nursemaid for now,” said Bruce.

“Lucky me,” said Steve.

“Don’t worry, Tony’ll be here as soon as he can be.”

Steve exhaled slowly. “Nat told you?”

“No, Steve, I’ve got eyes. Frankly I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a betting pool on whose sock’ll be on whose doorknob first.”

Steve felt the familiar blush creep up his neck. “We haven’t… I don’t even know if he likes me like that, Bruce.”

“Oh he does. I told you, I’ve got eyes. But, we don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want. Especially when there’s the last Dodgers game of the season to watch, and you’ve got exclusive access to your one friend who actually knows how baseball works for the next couple of hours.”

“Man, I should’ve gotten concussed sooner,” said Steve.

“Hey, I’m always down to watch a game, Steve. Just ask.”

Three weeks ago, Steve would’ve nodded and never followed up, because he wasn’t going to take Bruce away from his own important work just so Steve could have company watching a baseball game. But Steve was starting to like this feeling of getting things he wanted for himself through this newly discovered power of asking for them. So instead he said, “Y’know, Bruce, I’ll hold you to that.”

“Great. But before we get to the game, settle a bet for me: how’d you know they were assassins?”

“I didn’t.”

“ _ Bullshit _ .”

“I’m serious!”

“You looked a sobbing little kid in the eye and said to his face ‘no, I will not take an extra picture for you’? Steve Rogers did that?”

“I didn’t want to take the picture,” said Steve with a shrug. The fact that he absolutely would have a month ago was not lost on him. Tony had saved his life today, and the thought made Steve’s heart swell.

Bruce shook his head and said, “Damn, I can’t believe Nat won that bet.”

“You thought it was a good idea to bet against  _ Nat _ ? What, were you the Hulk at the time?”

“Hey, he’s the smart one. I’m the pretty one.”

They took a “look who’s not dead” selfie for the team, they watched the game, and later after Bruce left, Steve asked what felt like was an inordinate number of dumb and uncomfortable questions to his doctor, who answered all of them like a pro, then gave him some resources to find the answers to any other questions he had if he wasn’t comfortable asking them. By then it was dark outside the window and while that usually didn’t mean Steve would be going to sleep any time soon, healing from the head trauma was catching up with him and he felt himself dozing off.

Steve could’ve told you that he was probably going to have a nightmare that night. It still didn’t prepare him to see Peggy.

They were walking on the beach in Coney Island where Steve’s mother used to take him when she had a little extra money for the trolly fare.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she was saying, looking out over the ocean.

He looked around, but all he could see was water and sand.

“I’m glad you like it, Peggy,” said Steve.

“I could stay here forever,” said Peggy, and Steve still hadn’t seen her face.

The sand was sucking on his feet more and more with every step.

“I need to get back to the city,” said Steve, as he turned toward the boardwalk. He could kill for a cup of coffee.

But the sand was sticking him in place. He couldn’t leave and he couldn’t follow and he couldn’t move. The water was so cold.

“Wait!” shouted Steve.

He was sinking, and the waves sounded like an explosion next to a marble pillar and an aircraft crashing into a sheet of ice, and the water filling the hole was freezing in his lungs.

Steve woke with a start, and took a minute for him to catch his breath.  _ It’s just a dream, _ he thought to himself over and over, as he got out of bed and headed to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. A few minutes later he was changing back into some clothes someone had thoughtfully laid out for him at the foot of his bed and got ready to leave.

After he confirmed he was ok to go, he asked the nurse if she knew whether Tony had come back from his mission yet.

“Oh he was here last night, Captain Rogers. He didn’t wake you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You heard it here - Captain America thinks Christopher Columbus is garbage, and so should you.
> 
> Steve's lived a weird enough life that his doctor falling into a time machine and kicking his sex ed teacher's ass is not outside the realm of possibility. Suffice to say somewhere in the multi-verse it almost certainly happened, and it was as great as you're imagining right now.
> 
> Nat only watches fighting-related sports. Clint watches archery religiously and enough soccer to make it easier for him to blend in when he's under cover abroad. Tony sometimes tunes in for formula 1 racing and battle bots, and he sponsors a ton of high school robotics teams, but he can't really pay attention to anything that isn't a project or a party long enough to get into it. Thor thinks every sport is great but lost his shit when someone introduced him to the Highland games (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Highland_games) and attends events when he can. The house of Odin has an honorary tartan now.


	10. Chapter 10

Steve went directly from the hospital floor to Tony’s lab, and caught Tony just as he was leaving it.

“Hey--” started Steve.

“Oh, it’s 11, isn’t it?” said Tony, never looking up from his phone.

“What? Yeah, but--”

“C’mon, buddy, we’ve been putting this off long enough,” said Tony as he motioned for Steve to come with him up the stairs.

Steve hesitated, then followed Tony.

“Where are we going?” asked Steve.

“Your graduation,” said Tony as they ascended to the living room where Thor, Bruce, Nat and Clint were standing over what looked like a crude 3D holographic projection of Columbus Circle in miniature.

“Anybody know this guy? I found him wandering around the tower,” said Tony.

The others turned, and smiled when they saw him.

“Steve!” boomed Thor, who immediately walked straight through the projection to put Steve into a bone-crushing hug, then kept his arm around Steve’s shoulder as he said, “Your bravery is truly a credit to Midgard, and I am pleased to see you’ve recovered so quickly.”

“Glad to see you back on your feet,” said Bruce.

“I think the Cap might’ve put on a pound or two in the hospital bed, his abs are looking a bit flabby,” said Tony.

“What? No  _ way _ I have better abs than Captain America,” said Clint, who reached to pick up Steve’s shirt.

Steve put his hand up to stop Clint, then shrugged Thor’s arm off his shoulder.

“It’s good to see you guys too,” he said, “but can… can you all, ah, can you ask before you touch me, please?”

“Of course - your body is still healing,” said Thor.

“No, actually, it’s not that,” said Steve, “look, Thor, I know you give out hugs like they’re going out of style, and Clint, the quickest way to tell if you’re friends with somebody is if you won’t stop touching them, but I just… I really prefer if people ask me before they touch me. Is that ok?”

There was a pause, and then Clint said, “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Steve.”

“Steven, son of Sarah, I shall see to it that your wishes are born into reality,” said Thor.

Steve blinked. “Thanks. Wait, really?”

“What, did you think we’d say no?” said Clint, “What kind of assholes do you think we are?”

“No I-- it doesn’t matter.”   
  
Tony cleared his throat, and shot Steve a glare that clearly said  _ Don’t you wimp out on me now, Rogers. _

“It’s just that I was very obviously uncomfortable before now and it didn’t matter then, which is why I’m surprised it matters now.”

“What are you talking about?” said Clint.

Tony cut in. “J, put our debrief right after the robot attack on the holo-projector, and do an edit of every time someone touched Steve without asking.”

Immediately the projector began to play a crude holographic record of the debrief.

“Cap, when that one robot fired a cannon at your head I thought you were a goner. Did you get a haircut from that close shave?” asked Clint as he ran his hand over the top of Steve’s hair.

A moment later, Thor was picking up Steve’s arm to compare their bruises.

Another moment later, Nat was poking Steve in the ribs.

In every instance, Steve’s face was clearly visible and uncomfortable, but also exhausted from the fight they’d literally just finished and obviously just not in the mood to say anything about it.

The video ended, and silence fell over the room.

“Steve, I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry,” said Clint.

“Me too,” said Nat.

“I also wish to apologize,” said Thor.

“I-- thank you for apologizing. And it’s not that I never want any of you to touch me ever again. But please, either pay attention to whether I look like I want a hug or a back rub or whatever, and if you’re not sure, ask.”

“Absolutely,” said Clint, “things are going to change, starting right now.”

“Thanks,” said Steve, who was really relieved to be on the other side of that conversation, “Anyway, what are you all doing up here?”

“Trying to figure out where the kid got to when he went into camera 52’s blind spot,” said Bruce, who almost never touched anyone for any reason and had been watching the scene with interest, “You got a minute? We could use your help.”

“Yeah, actually, we’re both--”

The word “free” died in Steve’s throat when he turned and saw that Tony wasn’t there anymore.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 10 was a bit unfairly short, I had chapter 11 finished already, so I thought I'd drop this one too.
> 
> Also, to all the readers who've taken the time to write kind comments on a made-up story about two sweet super boys in love, you are truly the bomb.

Steve spent the next few hours narrowing down possible escape routes for his would-be assassins and finding new ones. As soon as he was finished, he headed back downstairs to the lab, but saw his entry permissions had been revoked.

“I’m sorry sir, Mr. Stark is engrossed in a project and has requested not to be disturbed.”

“Oh. Can you tell me when he’s available?”

“Of course, sir”

Over the next few days, Steve was glad to see his team had been serious when they promised things would change. Thor stopped giving hugs without asking. Nat had already stopped poking Steve in the ribs before their conversation but when Clint forgot himself temporarily and reached for Steve’s hand to compare their life-lines (“Is yours just 10 times longer than everyone else’s, do you think?”) Nat practically vaulted over 3 couches to put her hand down between Clint and Steve.

“Ask first, remember?” she said.

Which of course made Clint go crimson and start a litany of apologies that weren’t necessary; Steve knew this adjustment was going to be the hardest on him. But all around, they were truly making an effort to respect his boundaries, and Steve was so, so grateful he had the friends he did.

But four days later, Tony was still shut up in his lab.

“Can you at least tell me if he’s eating and sleeping?” said Steve.

“I’m afraid I can’t disclose that, sir,” said Jarvis.

For lack of any better ideas, Steve decided to go visit Bruce’s floor of the tower.

Bruce’s lab felt so alien compared to Tony’s. It was full of plants and various bugs and fish and small mammals in glass enclosures, and test tubes full of different colored goos. And Steve felt a fresh pang of longing for the metal shavings and cluttered half-finished prototypes he’d come to associate with feeling at home.

“Oh, hi Steve,” said Bruce, taking his eyes off his microscope as Steve came through the door, “Is there a playoffs game today?”

“Hi Bruce. No there isn’t but… is your plant ok?”

Bruce followed Steve’s eyes to the vibrating giant purple bulb in the pot to Steve’s left.

“Oh, she gets like that when she’s cranky,” said Bruce nonchalantly, “just don’t touch her leaves and you’ll be fine.”

Steve took a small step a few inches farther away from “her” and said, “I just wanted to know if Tony was collaborating with you on whatever project he’s been working on while he’s holed up in his lab.”

“What? Steve, Tony’s not in his lab.”

“Jarvis, is that true?” said Steve.

“Yes, sir. But Mr. Stark is still unavailable for contact at the moment,” said Jarvis.

“Yeah, Tony’s on the West Coast doing some corporate bullshit. It’s all over the news. He didn’t tell you?”

Steve tried not to look as crushed as he felt. Apparently he failed, because Bruce took off his latex gloves and safety glasses and came over toward Steve.

“Hey, Steve, c’mon. Can I touch your shoulder? Look, whatever Tony’s doing, he’s not doing it to hurt you. Not intentionally, anyway.”

“Did… do you think I did something?”

“Nah, Tony’s just being an idiot. He’ll be back. C’mon, you wanna go get a beer or something?”

“Thanks, but it’s ok. I’ve got some reading I’ve been wanting to do anyway.”

“You sure? I’ve got a good 3 hours before my next samples are ready to examine, and I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“I’m fine, Bruce, really,” said Steve, who was already walking out the door in case his face betrayed how not fine he was, “I’ll catch you later.”

Steve did not read. He went back to his room, stared at his ceiling, and wondered how he’d managed to fuck up this badly before he even started.

The next day, Tony came back to New York but was in his lab on a do-not-disturb order before Steve could get to him. So Steve went to the gym and started taking out punching bags, because what the hell else could he do? He wasn’t sure how long he was in there before he heard someone clear their throat behind him, he turned, and Natasha was standing there in padded gloves and work out clothes.

“Mind if I cut in?” said Nat.

“Help yourself,” said Steve, who started walking over to the corner of the room to begin depositing the 5… 10… 15 broken punching bags down the garbage chute specifically reserved for this purpose.

“Hold the bag for me?” said Natasha.

Steve took a drink of water, then walked back over to hold the bag, as Nat started practicing her left hooks and high kicks.

“So how are we doing this?” said Natasha.

“I’m not a trainer Nat,” said Steve.

“No I mean,” said Natasha, who was still punching the bag, “Are we going to keep on like this, pretending we’re both training here, or are we getting right to it?”

Steve let out a sigh. “I know it’s pointless, but can we pretend for a little while?”

“Not pointless at all, Steve,” said Nat, after she delivered a spinning kick, “I’ll be ready when you are.”

They went on like that in silence for a bit, with Natasha practicing on the bag and Steve holding it in place. About 20 minutes later, Steve went to go sit on the side of the boxing ring in the center of the training floor. Natasha grabbed a sports drink and sat next to him.

“I don’t even know what to tell you, Nat,” said Steve, “He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Did you have a fight?” said Natasha.

“No, we didn’t,” said Steve, “he came to visit me on the hospital floor while I was sleeping, but he was gone before I woke up. The last I saw him was when we were all in the common room together. I keep going through it in my mind but I can’t figure out what went wrong.”

“Tell me everything that’s happened since the last time we spoke.”

Steve did, although it wasn’t much more than what he’d told her already. When he was finished, Natasha said, “Did you have anything on the side table with you in the hospital wing?”

“No. Shield diverted the usual flowers and stuff from the fans to security in case the assassins were trying for round two,” said Steve.

“Did you have a dream when you were there?”

“Uh… yeah. How’d you--”

“What about?”

“Nothing important.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I don’t know, it was a nightmare. The ice, Peggy, the usual bullshit--”

Natasha stood up and took off her padded fingerless gloves. “Go wash up. Meet me in your room in an hour.”

“...ok? What’s this about?”

“You and Tony had a miscommunication, but it’s fixable. See you then,” said Nat as she left the gym, leaving Steve feeling less miserable, but more confused than when she came in.

What the hell was going on?


	12. Chapter 12

An hour later, Steve had showered, dressed, and was waiting in his room, but he was just as confused as he was when he’d left the gym. Thankfully Nat showed up exactly when she said she would.

“Nat? What--”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, “You’re dressed and everything?”

“Y-yeah,” said Steve.

“Good,” said Nat, as she took out her cell phone and dialed a number.

Steve heard a faint, “What is it, Nat?” on the other end of the line, then watched Nat’s face contort into something worried and frantic.

“Tony? It’s  _ Steve _ ,” said Nat in what sounded like a panic.

“On my way,” said Tony’s voice on the other end of the line.

Nat hung up the phone and immediately her face reverted back to an amused expression.

“Go get’im, tiger,” she said before walking out the door. Not even 15 seconds later, Steve heard the familiar whine of miniature engines and Iron Man burst through the door.

“Ah… I’m sorry,” said Steve, “I didn’t know Nat was going to do that.”

Tony landed and flipped up the faceplate. There were dark circles under his eyes, and Steve wondered when was the last time he’d slept.

“You’re alright?” said Tony.

“I’m not hurt.”

Tony rolled his eyes, sighed, then touched a few places on his breastplate in quick succession. Immediately the suit split open in the front and Tony walked out. In another moment it was flying out the doorway and presumably back to the lab.

“Good,” said Tony as he turned back toward the door, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go assassinate a Russian spy.”

“But I’m not alright,” said Steve quickly.

Tony turned, cocked an eyebrow, then said, “What’s wrong?”

“Well, Tony, we had been spending time together almost every day, and for the past week you wouldn’t give me the time of day. You flew off to California without even telling me. And I can’t get a hold of you to ask what I did to piss you off.”

Tony pressed his lips together and sighed. “You didn’t piss me off, Cap,” he said.

“We’re back to ‘Cap’ now?” said Steve.

“Look, I know I’ve been acting like an asshole,” said Tony, “and I’m sorry. I’m just-- I can’t talk about it with you.”

“Why not?”

“I need to go,” said Tony as he turned around to face the door.

“Jarvis, barricade the door,” said Steve.

The door slammed shut and something heavy  _ shunked _ into place behind it.

“I know when I’m being humored too, Tony,” said Steve.

“You know I can override that, right?”

“Wouldn’t have done it if you couldn’t,” said Steve, “but I don’t think you will. Because I think you know you owe me an explanation.”

Tony looked at the floor, put a hand up to the back of his neck, and sighed. Then he made his way over to Steve’s bed and sat down.

“What if you don’t like what I tell you?” asked Tony.

“Then I’ll deal with it, and we’ll try to figure out how to move forward like the adults we are,” said Steve, as he crossed the room and sat next to Tony on the bed.

“Sorry to break it to you, Cap, but I’ve got ‘professional man-child’ practically tattooed to every inch of my body.”

“Stop making jokes and just tell me what’s wrong.”

Tony exhaled heavily, put his elbows on his knees and his head between his hands and stared at the floor.

“Would it help if you start small?” said Steve, “Instead of telling me what’s wrong, tell me why you’ve been avoiding me.”

Tony looked up at Steve, “That’s easy. I’ve been avoiding you because it concerns you.”

“Ok,” said Steve, “Was there something I did?”

“No.”

“Did you do something and you think I’ll be mad about it?”

“No. Yes. Maybe?”

“Does it have to do with consent lessons?”

“I don’t know, Steve,” said Tony as he sat up and let his hands drop, and Steve was glad that at least they’d gotten away from “Cap” formality.

“Ok. Is there anything I could do to help you through this? Even hypothetically?”

Tony let out a humorless laugh, “You have no  _ idea,” _ he said.

“What would that be?”

“Well,” said Tony, “You could either reveal yourself to be an agent of Hydra who’s been conning us all into trusting you.”

“Or?”

“You’re really going to make me say it.”

“Somebody taught me once that saying things out loud makes them more concrete.”

“Wow, who taught you that? He sounds like an idiot.”

“Stop changing the subject.”

Tony laid back on the bad, ran his hand through his hair, swallowed, then closed his eyes like the thing that was about to happen was going to hurt.

“Or you could tell me the way you feel about me is the same as the way I feel about you,” said Tony quietly.

Steve laid back on the bed and propped himself up on an elbow to face Tony.

“Look you’re not-- my feelings are my responsibility, Steve. I didn’t want to put this on you.”

“Tony, can I kiss you?”

Tony’s eyes flew open and he turned his face toward Steve.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if I could kiss you,” said Steve, “because the way you feel about me is the same as the way I feel about you.”

Tony looked like every circuit in his brain was overloading, but he managed a nod. So Steve leaned down to kiss Tony on the lips. He’d intended something short but meaningful, but then Tony had a death grip on the collar of Steve’s tee shirt and he was kissing back like Steve was going to disappear any second. Which was when Steve realized Tony really hadn’t thought it was possible Steve felt this way. Maybe he still didn’t. And Steve couldn’t let  _ that _ stand.

Steve slid his tongue into Tony’s mouth and moved the full weight of his hips on top of Tony’s, and the feeling of Tony’s thigh pressing against Steve’s rapidly hardening erection elicited a sound from Steve he couldn’t remember ever making before - something wanting and passionate and  _ deeply _ fucking horny. And that seemed to be what Tony was waiting for to put his hands into Steve’s hair and onto his waist, and grind his own erection against Steve with an equally wanting groan.

“Tony can I--”

“Thank you for asking,” said Tony, “but unless I stop you, assume my attitude is ‘ _fuck_ _yes_.’”

Steve smiled and started raising the hem of Tony’s shirt. Tony’s hand stopped him.

“That’s a no?” said Steve.

“I-- the reactor. It weirds people out.”

Steve silently cursed anyone who ever made Tony feel like any piece of him wasn’t a work of art. He leaned in and started kissing Tony again, sweet and gentle and slow. And Steve let the shirt stay in place, but moved his hand up Tony’s torso underneath it and gently traced the lines he found. The delicate curve of Tony’s ribs. The jagged lines of Tony’s scars. The hard circle of metal around Tony’s sternum.

Steve could feel the tension leave Tony’s body as he sighed into Steve’s mouth. Steve started trailing kisses up Tony’s jaw towards his ear, and when he got there he gently said, “Tony, there isn’t one part of you that isn’t beautiful to me.”

He must’ve said the right thing because Tony was sitting up and removing his shirt, then Steve’s, and they were back to kissing and feeling and grinding and if Steve didn’t do something soon he was going to come and he wasn’t even  _ naked _ yet.

Steve started kissing Tony’s neck in earnest, then his chest, then his stomach, then Steve got off the bed and down on his knees.

“Getting right to the main event, huh?” said Tony breathlessly.

“I’ve been thinking about this for  _ weeks _ , Tony,” said Steve, as he started unzipping Tony’s pants, “I’m only human.”

Steve’s heart was beating out of chest with lust and anxiety, but judging from the sound Tony made when Steve’s lips closed over his cock, Steve was doing something right. His plan was to keep it slow and deliberate and careful, always watching Tony for his reaction and learning what worked and what didn’t. But within the space of five minutes, Tony was pulling Steve’s hair and coming in his mouth with the sweetest gutteral sound Steve had ever heard in his life.

Steve spat into the trash bin next to the bed and raised his eyebrows at Tony, trying to ask “Good?” with his eyes. But Tony must’ve seen, “That didn’t take long?” because he replied, “I’ve been thinking about this for  _ weeks _ , Steve, I’m only human.”

Steve chuckled and shook his head. He wasn’t sure what the etiquette was for kissing someone when your mouth was full of his come 30 seconds ago but apparently for Tony at least it was “absolutely do that,” and they were making out again before Steve finished lying down on the bed. And it was so fucking hot, Steve was starting to think he’d die if he kept his pants on for another second.

“Speaking of things I’ve been thinking about for weeks,” said Tony, as his hand went down toward Steve’s zipper, “Do you want me to--”

“Thank you for asking. But unless I stop you, assume my attitude is ‘ _ Yes _ .’”

“He gives a blow job like  _ that _ but he won’t swear in bed,” said Tony as he finished shucking Steve’s pants.

“I swear when it’s called fooooooooohhhhhh  _ fuuuck, Tony. _ ” said Steve, as Tony swallowed him down.

Steve honestly couldn’t recall the specifics of what happened next, because Tony was doing things with his mouth that were melting Steve’s brain clear out of his ears onto the bed spread. The only reason Steve didn’t come in 5 seconds was that Tony was a pro, and kept him edging so long that when it finally happened Steve damn near forgot his own name, although that didn’t stop him from shouting Tony’s.

When Steve came back down to earth, Tony was tracing his fingers over Steve’s chest.

“Hey,” said Tony.

“Hey,” said Steve.

“You run cooler than I thought you would,” said Tony.

“It’s the serum. Energy stays internal, less goes out in body heat. I warm up quick under the covers, though.”

Tony took it for the invitation it was, and a minute later they were under the blanket and Tony’s arm was around Steve’s waist and his head was resting on Steve’s shoulder. And all Steve could think about is how right and peaceful it was, looking up at the same ceiling he’d been staring at not even 24 hours ago wondering if he was just cursed never to be with anyone he loved.

“Don’t go to sleep,” said Tony sleepily.

“I never sleep. I’m like a 6’5” Energizer bunny,” said Steve.

“You don’t even know what that  _ is _ ,” Tony grumbled.

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Steve, “but you should get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tony slept. He slept for five hours, which had to be some kind of record for him, and Steve kept his promise not to leave. He read a little and even managed to nap a little, but what he mostly did was wrap his arm around Tony, breathe in his scent, and think about what was coming next. Somehow the stars had aligned and Tony Stark actually wanted him back, and as long as that remained true Steve was all in. For the birthday presents, the black tie galas, the ice cream at Coney Island. For the hardships, the battle wounds, the hard conversations. Cracking jokes in the lab, making love in the shower (now  _ there _ was a thought), swapping stories and sorrows and shoulders for support, and finding new ways to tell Tony I love you, I love you,  _ I love you _ . Tony might not be ready to hear that out loud yet, but Steve had gotten too good at listening to his heart to doubt what it was telling him now. It was just a matter of time, and Tony might not wait for anything, but Steve had enough patience for both of them. The only thing he couldn’t wait for was getting started.

When Tony finally stirred he saw Steve and smiled, then he saw the clock and grimaced.

“You’re gonna fuck up my sleep cycle, Rogers,” said Tony, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“You have a sleep cycle?” said Steve.

“In theory at least,” said Tony.

“Maybe we can work on turning that theory into practice,” said Steve.

“Don’t count on it, Rogers”

“Don’t count it out, Stark.”

“When did you get such a smart mouth?”

“You should meet the guy I’m seeing. Everything that comes out of his mouth is brilliant and he never shuts up.”

“Really? Who’s that?”

Steve gazed wistfully into the middle distance. “Lord Englebert Loquacious III,” he said with a dreamy sigh.

Tony laughed and hit Steve with a pillow, which made Steve laugh because dear god, could you die from this much happiness?

“Hate to say it, Steve, but that guy was me all along.”

“ _ Nooo, _ ” said Steve with mock devastation, although it was somewhat undercut by the fact he was still laughing.

“Yep. It was all a con, and you fell for it.”

“What were you trying to con out of me?”

“A smile,” said Tony, with a small smile of his own.

“You could’ve asked, I would’ve given you one.”

“And miss out on an opportunity to teach you about social engineering? What kind of teacher would I be?”

“Speaking of, Nat says you can leave those lessons to her from now on.”

“Considering she literally conned me into this room with 3 words without technically  _ lying _ to me, I’m going to agree with her.”

“Should we go downstairs and thank her?”

“One, I don’t think we’re leaving this room for a while, sweetheart,” said Tony with a smirk that went straight to Steve’s dick, “Two, I might have to hide from her for a bit, if she knows as much as I think she does about why I’ve been acting like an idiot.”

“There’s more than what you told me?” said Steve.

“Yeah, but it’s not important.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“We’ve seen each other naked, Tony.”

“Yeah, and you’re a literal American god and I’m a wrinkly old--”

_ “Tony _ ”

“Oh  _ come on _ , I’ve already done one gut-wrenching confession today, do I really need to do two?”

“Did you hear me say Peggy’s name in my sleep when you came to visit me on the hospital floor?” asked Steve.

Tony turned his shocked face to look at Steve, before he said, “Did the serum give you mind-reading powers? Because I want to apologize for the things I imagined doing to you in the lab. Unless you’re into it, in which case--”

“I figured it out. Tony, I have nightmares about Peggy and Bucky and the war and the crash all the time. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“Really?”

“Well, I used to have them all the time,” said Steve as he ran a finger down Tony’s cheek, “They’ve been less frequent recently. I think I’ve been happier for some reason.”

“No thanks to me.”

“All thanks to you.”

Steve’s stomach decided to ruin the moment and serenade them both.

“How long have you been hungry?” asked Tony.

“Not too long,” said Steve evasively.

“Steve, now that we’re done with consent lessons I need to teach you how to lie through your teeth,” said Tony, as he reached for his phone, “I’m thinking dim sum, followed by me doing bad things to you. Sound good?”

Steve swallowed, already half hard again, and said, “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good to me.”

Tony fiddled with his phone for a few seconds, then said, “Food’ll be in the dumbwaiter in 20 minutes.”

“What do you want to do in the meantime?”

“We could… watch TV, make prank calls, or… hmmm…” said Tony, as Steve came up next to him and started nibbling Tony’s ear and pressing himself against Tony’s side, “I’m getting the sense you’ve got something in mind.”

“What gave it away?” said Steve, as he trailed kisses down Tony’s neck.

“Think we’ll be done by the time the food gets here?” asked Tony.

“Do you care?” said Steve.

In answer, Tony put his hand on Steve’s chin and brought his face up for a kiss.

They weren’t done by the time the food got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you've enjoyed the story, please leave a comment, it really does make my day.
> 
> Also, if you're looking for more Stony, I've got an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers story about them that you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692356


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